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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



FARMING IT 




IT WAS A CLEAN KNOCKOUT (PAGE 157) 



FARMING IT 



BY 

HENRY A. SHUTE 

Author of " The Real Diary of a Real Boy " 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
REGINALD B. BIRCH 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

(^\)t Bi\JEr?ibe ^xe?^ Cambribge 

1909 



MTpv^l 



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VJIJ 



COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY HENRY A. SHUTE AND HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published November iq/OQ 



CI.A-<!5l73a'^ 



PREFACE 

Of the propriety of submitting this book to the 
public I have had very serious doubts. The 
nature-books of recent years have certainly been 
a strong incentive to out-of-door life, to healthful 
and clean living as near to nature as possible. 

And it seemed to me that any recital of actual 
experiences that might possibly deter a person 
seeking country life as a means of pecuniary 
profit, from taking the plunge, might perhaps be 
injudicious. 

But the more I considered the matter the more 
I became convinced that the representations of 
the beautifully illustrated nature-magazines, the 
seductive stories in Sunday paper supplements, 
farm and garden pamphlets, seed catalogues, 
poultry periodicals, pigeon monthlies, and like 
literature, were a trifle overdrawn, and only too 
often had the eflfect of luring the unwary city 
dweller to forsake the undeniable luxuries and 
comforts of city life, for the hard, and often, at 
first, unremunerative labor on a farm. 

For many city-bred people have become con- 
vinced that the path to riches, luxury, and com- 
fort is by way of mushrooms cultivated in an old 
bureau or in a barn-cellar ; that a solid bank ac- 



vi PREFACE 

count is the sure and proximate result of "raising 
squabs for profit"; that a safe-deposit box is a 
vital necessity after a year with one thousand 
hens. 

But the cultivation of mushrooms by any per- 
sons other than experts is too often attended with 
loss of life in horrible agony on the part of those 
purchasers relying on the quality of the goods; 
squabs "go light," and pigeons do not always 
breed; and without experienced and constant 
care, a package of insect powder, a chattel mort- 
gage, or the services of an auctioneer are of much 
more importance and a far greater^ necessity 
after a year with a thousand hens, th^n a safe- 
deposit box. -^ 

There is a " Jabberwock with eyes of flame" 
lying in wait for every product of the farm and 
garden, but in that I think lies one of the charms 
of farming. Crops that will thrive without cul- 
tivation are not very desirable. It is much better 
fun to catch pickerel and trout than eels or pout, 
although the baser fish are just as good to eat. 
A boy of ten will throw back with disgust a six- 
pound sucker he has caught, but will fancy him- 
self a Croesus when, after unheard-of climbing 
and walking and wading and sweating and mos- 
quito-biting, he returns with a small string of 
wary perch weighing four ounces each. 

The same care and the same amount of work 



PREFACE vii 

that will produce success in other lines of useful- 
ness will, I believe, lead to success on a farm. 
More than this, I do not believe there can be a 
healthier life or a pleasanter than the life of a per- 
son interested in country life or nature on a farm, 
whether he farms as an amateur, w ith an income 
from a profession or a trade, or as a farmer from 
love of the life. 

And I trust that this book may be useful in 
tempting many back to the soil, prepared for 
hard work, w ithout which no success is worth the 
name. 

Henry A. Shute. 

Exeter, N. H., October, 1909. 



CONTENTS 

I. The Doctor Prescribes 1 

II. I Buy my Pigs 6 

III. Livestock 19 

IV. The Gallic War 29 
V. Hens 38 

VI. The Remedy and the Disease 45 

VII. My Old Friend Nick : a Failure in Wholesale 54 

VIII. Setbacks 67 

IX. More Setbacks 73 

X. Gramp and the Gamecock 78 

XI. The Grange 83 

XII. Turkeys and a Footrace 91 

XIII. A Night Call 110 

XIV. Great Expectations 118 
XV. The Tales of Gramp 129 

XVI. The Shower 145 



X CONTENTS 

XVII. Milking 151 

XVIII. The Calf — Another Footrace 159 

XIX. Amateur Theatricals 166 

XX. Parting with Polly 194 

XXI. The Neighborhood Nuisance 201 

XXII. The Discomfiture of Cyrus 222 

XXIII. A Return 233 

XXIV. Looking Backward 244 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

It was a clean knockout (page 157) Frontis'piece 

Swearing that I was a sure enough farmer 14 

You have steal ma hwood ! 34 

I stepped on the edge of a large deep tin pan 42 

Amid a cloud of dust came the old white mare 60 

Shot into the air like a catapult 72 

Dashed into the open 108 

It looked like a jack-rabbit on stilts 128 

He clings to it with desperation 148 

I was mad ! Thoroughly mad ! Fighting mad ! 164 

Have you read "The Simple Life" by Wagner? 186 

Dancing that would astonish a modern Papanti 192 

Git offer my Ian', ye whelp of Satan ! 214 

The whole thing was an innocent joke 230 

It's Polly, Dick's got Polly J 242 

Riding with the ease and abandon of a cavalryman 246 



FARMING IT 

CHAPTER I 

THE DOCTOR PRESCRIBES 




ROM my youth I had been designed 
by my ambitious and autocratic fa- 
ther for the study of the law. In my 
secret heart I had rebelled against 
his desires. He had never given me any reasons 
which seemed to justify this line of conduct 
except, as he frequently said, "There was plenty 
of room at the top." I could not deny it, because 
at that time I had never been to the top to verify 
his statement, and since that time I have never 
succeeded in getting above the overcrowded con- 
dition of affairs at the bottom. 

So far as I could learn of my ancestry, there 
had never been any lawyers in the family since 
the progenitor of that family in remote times 
had burst upon the New World. Consequently, 
there was never any heredity that had given me 
a desire for the study of the law; in fact, I had 
always rebelled against any and all study what- 
soever, however necessary, however desirable. 



2 FARMING IT 

It is not out of place here to state that my auto- 
cratic father has seen good reasons to moderate 
his ambitious desires in respect to my vocation 
in life, and, to speak more plainly, wishes he had 
not interfered. 

Now I had inherited or acquired a certain 
taste for the soil, which manifested itself in vari- 
ous ways during my boyhood. I had early con- 
ceived a taste and interest in mud pies, and had 
carried the products of that industry on my face 
and hands to perhaps a greater extent than any 
child in the neighborhood. I had also manifested 
a most reprehensible tendency to besmear my- 
self with mud upon every occasion. That this 
was to a certain extent a matter of heredity I 
have no doubt. 

My great-grandfather had once owned the 
largest and finest farm in town, and had, while 
yet a young man, sold the same for a round 
sum, the interest on which enabled him to live 
in comfort for the rest of his days and maintain 
a large family of children, who, as tradition has 
it, did all they could to relieve that ancestor of 
all loose money that he possessed. As he passed 
from this world nearly three quarters of a cen- 
tury ago, it is needless to state that his later life 
was not embittered by his intimate acquaintance 
with me. He is gone, but the farm still remains, 
and the tradition that our family once owned it 



THE DOCTOR PRESCRIBES 3 

is the pleasantest item of family history, one upon 
which we lay the greatest stress in speaking of 
the departed glories of the family. 

Now had I been able to indulge my strong de- 
sire to live the life of a farmer, I have no hesita- 
tion, in view of my recent experience, in saying 
that I would have made the worst specimen of 
an agriculturalist the world has ever seen, and 
so perhaps my venerable father wrought better 
than he knew when he indicated in his convinc- 
ing manner the road which I was to travel. True 
enough, I might have made a greater success as 
a musician, a sign-painter, or a seller of patent 
medicines, but I stuck to the law. 

It is a very curious fact that, although I had 
in common with the rest of my family a decided 
objection to hard work and drudgery of any kind, 
and although office-work came terribly hard to 
a boy who had spent his early years in the open 
air, yet after a time the regular hours, the in- 
teresting nature of my business, and the acquaint- 
ance with all kinds of people began to exercise 
a fascination over me that resulted perhaps in 
too great attention to business affairs, and the 
observance of too long hours in my office. 

In consequence of this, and in direct violation 
of all traditions of my family, I became some- 
what used up from over-work, and consulted a 
physician, who, with strange and terrifying in- 



4 FARMING IT 

struments, made exhaustive examinations of the 
workings of my vital organs, and finally suggested 
that I had better take more exercise, keep in the 
open air as much as possible, and not allow busi- 
ness affairs to worry me. For, as he said, I had 
become a little "hipped" from too close atten- 
tion to business, and needed rest. 

Now this gratified me beyond measure, for it 
is really a delightful thing to have people look 
upon one as a person who has been sacrificing 
his health to the demands of his profession, and 
although I knew in my inmost heart that I never 
had overworked, but, if the truth were known, 
had spent a good part of office hours in sitting 
with my feet on the desk, contemplating the 
square in front of my office, I fostered to the 
utmost the delusion under which the doctor and 
the people in general labored, and I decided to 
take a rest. I can give you no idea of the pleasure 
I felt in hearing the remarks made by my ac- 
quaintances upon my personal appearance, and 
in realizing that in the minds of some I w^as, ac- 
cording to their expression, ** booked for the junk 
heap " unless I took a rest. 

It was then that the long-dominant desire to 
have a small farm or garden patch of my own 
awoke in me. I knew perfectly well that if I took 
a deserted farm and tried to bring it to its previ- 
ous usefulness, history would be repeated, and it 



THE DOCTOR PRESCRIBES 5 

would again become a deserted farm, and prob- 
ably with an added mortgage. 

An opportunity to buy a two - and - one - half 
acre place on the outskirts of the town, and an 
equally fortuitous arrival of a complacent mort- 
gagee, solved the difficulty. And so from the in- 
herited disposition for that part of a farmer's life 
which consisted of lying at ease in a pile of new- 
mown hay, contemplating the growth of one's 
vegetables, the plumpness of one's neat stock, 
the regular markings of one's prize poultry, and 
the exceeding ripeness of one's fruit, I determined 
to have that place, in order to eke out the pre- 
carious living afforded me by the practice of my 
profession, by applying myself to arduous labor, 
which I felt sure would bring me renewed health. 
I recked not of drought, of storms, of the ravages 
of coleoptera, of the attacks of orthoptera, and 
the scourge of hemiptera, of lepidoptera, of hy- 
menoptera, of diptera, of all sorts and kinds of 
'ptera, those enemies of bucolic prosperity. Nay, 
I even dared the heavy handicap of a six per cent 
power - of - sale mortgage, with interest payable 
semi-annually in advance. 



CHAPTER II 

I BUY MY PIGS 




PASS over as uninteresting to my 
readers the details of house-repair- 
ing, the purchase of suitable furni- 
ture, new rugs, and other articles 
declared necessary by my wife. I also pass over 
many pungent remarks and spicy declarations 
of that frank lady in relation to my ability as 
a farmer, and my utility in general, although 
these remarks certainly would be vastly inter- 
esting and entertaining. 

During the interval that preceded my final 
removal to my farm, I ran up every day or two 
and viewed my two-and-one-half acres, inspected 
my barn and henhouse, and laid plans hugely. 
The arrival of the frigid season, of course, 
made any active cultivation of the soil impossi- 
ble. I had heard of winter wheat, and had opined 
that I would sow a little for spring consumption, 
but before the formalities necessary to the trans- 
fer of the property, and the negotiation of the 
mortgage before mentioned, were finished, the 
ground had frozen so hard that the proper tritu- 



I BUY MY PIGS 7 

ration of the earth was entirely out of the ques- 
tion, except by the use of high explosives, and I 
was far too modest to try any such innovation 
as dynamitic ploughing. 

So I would fain content myself with raising a 
few pigs and hens until the gladsome spring was 
at hand. I had really set my heart on pigs. Pigs 
were so comfortable, so good-natured, and so 
delightfully lazy. I respected and admired that 
trait. I was lazy, and had my circumstances in 
life permitted full indulgence in that most ami- 
able of virtues, I would undoubtedly have done 
little more than to eat, sleep, and cultivate my 
mind by omnivorous but light reading. 

But unfortunately my financial state had been 
such that I was, and had been from the time 
when I burst upon a large and unappreciative 
community as a sort of reincarnated chrysalis 
attorney-at-law, compelled to spend a large part 
of my waking hours in that sort of practice which 
is commonly spoken of as active ; why active, I 
cannot say. Consequently, not being able to give 
free rein to my slothful yearnings, I could respect 
and envy its possession in pigs, and pigs I was 
determined to have. 

Now my wife objected strongly to pigs, and 
when informed of my intentions, delivered quite 
a masterly argument on the subject. I was in- 
formed that pigs were filthy, nasty animals, al- 



8 FARMING IT 

ways kept in abominably smelling pens, fed upon 
refuse, and breeders of typhoid fever, malaria, 
cholera, and other kindred evils. 

I assured her that while this was perhaps fre- 
quently so, these characteristics were not indig- 
enous to the pigs, but were the results of improper 
food and unsuitable sanitary arrangements so 
painfully evident in the ordinary pig-pens, but 
that I intended to violate all the traditions of 
country pig - culture, by the development of 
specimens in a condition of perfect cleanliness, 
suitably nourished with the most approved foods. 

She replied that, while this was all very well in 
theory, I was the very last person in the world to 
keep up my interest in anything for any consider- 
able period, and cited a long and painful list of 
instances in which certain theories of mine had 
been dissipated and thoroughly exploded, and at 
considerable expense to me. 

I waived the citations, however, and reminded 
her that the one common ground of neighborly 
good feeling in a bucolic community was the pig- 
pen, and that more comfort was obtained of a 
Sabbath morning, and of a holiday, in leaning 
over the pig-pen with a neighbor, smoking and 
exchanging pastoral gossip, than in any other 
way. 

She retorted that I would be in much better 
business attending church on the Sabbath, and 



I BUY MY PIGS 9 

occasionally spending part of a holiday in beating 
a few rugs or mowing the lawn, instead of paying 
out money for what I could do perfectly well my- 
self, if I only had a little energy. Goodness knew 
she needed the money badly enough for things in 
the house. 

Well, there was little use in continuing the dis- 
cussion, and so I said no more at the time, but 
spent the greater part of my leisure hours during 
the week in building a good stout sleeping-floor 
in the pig-house, and wheeling in straw, ashes, 
and dry leaves. I was determined to have pigs. 

The next thing was to purchase my pigs. I was 
somewhat at a loss to make a choice of the com- 
parative merits of Chester White, Poland China, 
Berkshire, Sussex, Bedford or Jersey Red. All 
these breeds and many others I had read of in 
my encyclopaedia, but strange to say I could find 
no mention of the breed known as Runts. I had 
certainly heard somewhere of Runt pigs, and 
meant if possible to have some. I had many years 
before kept fancy pigeons, and knew that the 
variety known as Runts were the "giants of the 
pigeon tribe," and their squabs were the quickest- 
growing, fattest, largest, and most delicious eating 
of any. The name Runt could therefore be ap- 
plied to the porcine race for no other purpose, 
surely, than to indicate the possession of some 
remarkable qualities. Accordingly I decided 



10 FARMING IT 

upon Runts, if I could find any, and one evening 
I went across the way to consult my neighbor 
Daniel. 

Now Daniel, my nearest neighbor, is a gentle- 
man of wealth and position, a lover of horses, an 
expert judge of cattle, and a famous breeder of 
swine. Daniel loves a trade in any one of the lines 
mentioned, and enlivens each exchange with so 
many quips and jokes and good stories, that, 
before you are aware, you have made the trade, 
taking in exchange for your horse or cow or pig a 
stock of new stories and whatever Daniel may 
have seen fit to unload upon you. 

I believe in perfect frankness whenever I try 
to trade with a man, or to buy of him anything I 
know but little of. And so when I told Daniel 
I wished to buy a pair of his best pigs and would 
leave the price to his fairness, I knew I should be 
treated as a man and a brother. 

"Now, Daniel," I said, "I don't know any- 
thing about pigs, and you do, but I have some 
decided ideas in the matter. I have thought over 
the different breeds, and have decided to get the 
best, even if they do cost a trifle more. I want a 
good pair of Runts, and I don't know just where 
I can get any." 

"What do you want Runts for .^" said Daniel, 
with an expression of astonishment on his ruddy 
face. 



I BUY MY PIGS 11 

" Well, I suppose it will be a bit expensive," I 
replied, "but if a man is going to be a farmer, 
even an amateur farmer, he might as well do the 
thing right, and unless you begin right you won't 
go very far. Now, a few years ago," I continued, 
"I went in a bit for fancy pigeons and squab- 
raising, and although I did n't make any money 
on the venture, I picked up a lot of information. 
And let me tell you this, Daniel, Runts are the 
largest, quickest-growing, and easiest to fatten of 
any breed of pigeons, and I believe there is good 
money in Runt pigs." 

Daniel threw back his head and laughed 
loudly, then leaning forward, with a shrewd 
twinkle in his eye, he said : — 

" Well, old man, you are more of a farmer than 
I thought. Now if you are determined to have 
Runts I will tell you something. I did n't intend 
to let any one know, but I have a pair of Runts, 
beauties too, that I will let you have. They come 
a bit high, because, as I suppose you know, a 
Runt pig is not nearly as common as other breeds 
of pigs . You can have a pair of any of my other 
pigs for twelve dollars, but for the Runts I shall 
have to charge you eighteen." 

" Well, Daniel," I replied cheerfully, "if that is 
the best you can do, here is your money" ; and 
I handed him the money. 

"Well, hold on," he cried ; "don't you want to 



U FARMING IT 

see the pigs before you buy them ? How do 
you know I will give you what you have paid 
for?" 

" Oh, you will treat me all right. I want Runts, 
and you have Runts, and I want the best pair you 
have." 

"All right," said Daniel, somewhat doubtfully, 
as he tucked the bills into his vest-pocket, "you 
shall have them to-morrow, only I don't want any 
kick coming." 

" There will be no kick coming, Daniel ; this is 
a fair bargain, and as long as I get Runts I shall 
be satisfied. Only understand, don't palm off on 
me any ordinary pigs, — just plain Runts and 
nothing else." 

"All right, my son," said Daniel, coughing so 
violently into his handkerchief that he had to w ipe 
his eyes. 

The next noon when I returned from the office 
to lunch the pigs had arrived, and our entire 
family, barring my wife, was leaning over the 
pen contemplating them with awe. And, indeed, 
at first sight our inexperienced eyes could detect 
the fact that they were no ordinary pigs. They 
were small, much smaller than I supposed, and 
were covered with a most astonishing growth of 
hair, and their teeth or tusks seemed consider- 
ably in advance of their general bodily develop- 
ment. 



I BUY MY PIGS 13 

They stood with their front feet wide apart, and 
were somewhat wabbly on their hind-legs. In- 
deed, their progress about their pen resembled 
that of an inebriated gentleman endeavoring to 
navigate an uneven sidewalk. But I recollected 
that the young of Runt pigeons were delicate until 
they approached maturity. Still, even with these 
reflections, I did not feel entirely satisfied with 
my bargain. 

After lunch I repaired to the pen, and in the 
presence of my children administered a proper 
amount of nutriment to my stock, which, how- 
ever, did not manifest much enthusiasm for their 
food, a lack of appreciation of our efforts in their 
behalf which was unquestionably the result of 
unfamiliar ity with their surroundings. 

The next morning was Sunday, and, true to 
my prophecy, neighbors began to stroll in after 
breakfast to examine my stock. 

"Great Moses!" exclaimed the first man the 
moment his eyes rested on the animals, "who 
sold you those Runts .^" 

"Well, never mind where I got them," I re- 
plied shrewdly ; " it is n't every one who can get a 
fine pair of Runts. They came a bit high, but I 
was bound to have them." 

For a moment he eyed me with amazement at 
my reticence, and then burst into a roar of laugh- 
ter and clapped me on the back, swearing that I 



14 FARMING IT 

was a sure enough farmer. Indeed, most of my 
callers that day seemed so unusually cheerful 
that I began to be a bit suspicious. 

The physical condition of my pets occasioned 
me some uneasiness, and the recommendations of 
my friends as to medical treatment were to the 
last degree discouraging. One recommended 
charcoal and bone-meal. Another, the amputa- 
tion of the tail. Another, to slit the forehead and 
rub in sulphur. Still another, to look for black 
teeth and pull them. 

That night the smallest pig died, and was 
buried with suitable ceremonies and after titanic 
exertions with a pickaxe. That afternoon I had 
stolen an hour from office-work and fared to the 
library, where I consulted various works on Do- 
mestic Swine. After an exhaustive search I found 
the follow ing : — 

"Occasionally there will appear in a litter 
of pigs a stunted, dwarfed, or misshapen one, 
known as a runt. Whether this is a harking back 
to the original type or a direct inheritance from 
some defective but more recent ancestor matters 
little. The runt is of no value whatever, and 
should be killed at birth. Indeed, by allowing 
him to remain with the others one may menace 
the well-being of the healthy pigs, inasmuch as 
the runt is much more liable to contract disease 
than its healthy congeners. We have yet to hear 




SWEARING THAT I WAS A SURE ENOUGH FARMER 



I BUY MY PIGS 15 

of a single instance in which a runt ever devel- 
oped into a healthy pig." 

After reading this oracular essay, I reflected a 
bit. Daniel had done me. No, that was not quite 
fair to Daniel. I had done myself, and Daniel 
was the highly amused medium by which I had 
been done. 

Well, I had paid eighteen dollars for a bit of 
experience, and it might be of that value in the 
end, but just at that moment it appeared a rather 
high price. But then, think of the vast amuse- 
ment my friends had received and the general 
rejoicing of the public over the joke. At the 
thought of this I grew hot and cold by turns. 

I soon decided on a plan of action. That night, 
under cover of darkness, I drove to a neighboring 
town w^th my son, and bought a couple of fine, 
healthy pigs, for which I paid the modest price 
of eight dollars, leaving the sole surviving runt 
with the farmer, who promised to put him out 
of the way. 

And so, the next day, when jovial friends 
called to view my runts, they expressed much 
astonishment at the unreliability of gossip, and 
each and every one appeared much discomfited 
and cast down. 

Now the new pigs throve bravely and ate 
ravenously. True, they squealed raucously when 
they did not get their food at the regular periods. 



16 FARMING IT 

but they seemed to grow perceptibly from one day 
to another, and Kttle by httle I began to regain 
my assurance and to talk a bit. 

But, alas for my confidence, I had not yet seen 
the last of my trouble as a porciculturist, for one 
morning the three members of the Board of Health 
stalked into my office and sat down ponderously. 

" Squire," said one, after portentously clearing 
his throat, " be ye aware that ye air a-vilatin' the 
regilation of the Board of Health in keepin' 
pigs ? 

I was astounded, and gaped at the three gen- 
tlemen with open mouth. 

" Why, heavens and earth, gentlemen, can't a 
man keep pigs in a country town on a three-acre 
piece, when they are kept as clean as fresh straw 
and dry beds can make them.^" I shouted in 
astonishment. 

"No, squire, they can't, s' long's we're on the 
Board," he stoutly affirmed ; " and what's more," 
he continued, "I'm s'prised 'at you sh'd try tew 
dew it, squire, when you know the law." 

"Has any complaint been made.^" I queried. 

"No complaint's been made by nobody," re- 
plied the chairman. 

"Have you examined the premises .^" I asked 
again. 

"Yes, squire, we've looked 'em over keerful, 
an' we're bound to say ye've kep' 'em neat 'n' 



I BUY MY PIGS 17 

tidy 's a barn-loft, but that don't make any differ, 
ye can't keep pigs in the compact part of the 
taown, leastwise not 's long es we fellers is on the 
Board." 

"Why, damn it all, gentlemen, do you seri- 
ously mean to forbid me from keeping pigs by 
calling up a law that is only made to regulate 
abuses, like the five-miles-an-hour law, and fifty 
other such laws that I could name?" I de- 
manded, with pardonable heat, but highly ques- 
tionable emphasis. 

"That 's the law, squire, and this is the abuse 
it's made to regilate, an' we're here to regilate it. 
Naow what yer goin' tew dew 'baout it ?" 

I reflected a moment. They were right, such 
was the law, and I certainly ought to be the first to 
recognize their right to enforce it, although it was 
an extreme view to take of it, and sorely disap- 
pointing after my earnest and well-meant efforts 
to benefit and improve the art of keeping pigs. 

*' Well, gentlemen," I replied at length, "I con- 
sider that you are taking an extreme view of 
the law, but I shall yield. The pigs will go to- 
night, that is, if you gentlemen w ill be good enough 
to give me until then to get rid of them." 

"All right, squire," replied the chairman 
cheerfully. " Ye can have 'til to-morrer mawnin', 
and if ye '11 sell 'em right, I'll buy 'em," he con- 
tinued, eyeing me with a business air. 



18 FARMING IT 

" You have n't money enough to buy them, 
sir," I replied with dignity, and they clumped 
heavily down the stairs. 

That night the pigs were returned to the farmer 
at the same price which I gave for them, although 
they were nearly a third larger ; and so, although 
my love for pigs was in a sense betrayed, 

*"T were better to have loved and lost 
Than never to have loved at all." 




CHAPTER III 

LIVESTOCK 

HE unforeseen obstacles that were 
thrown in my way, and rendered abor- 
tive my attempts to revolutionize the 
pig industry of the United States, did 
not abate one jot of my enthusiasm for the noble 
art of farming and stock-breeding. After all, pigs 
were but an incident in the life of a farmer. Sta- 
tistics demonstrated the fact that, while the fowl 
and egg industry was increasing by leaps and 
bounds, to be one of the leading industries of the 
country, the demand was far in excess of the 
annual supply. 

When in the fifties the first Shanghai fowl was 
imported, the excitement ran so high that it was 
currently reported and believed that at last an 
ideal fowl had been found that would lay two 
eggs a day and give a pint of milk. Hundreds of 
misguided enthusiasts retired from the business 
in disgust when they found that the much 
vaunted Shanghai fowl was a sort of gallinaceous 
crane or cormorant, with an abnormal appetite, a 
voice like an ophicleide, a reproductive capacity 
under most favorable circumstances of about six 



20 FARMING IT 

eggs per year for the first year and of none there- 
after, and a steadfastness and pertinacity of in- 
cubation that only could be abated by setting fire 
to the nest and consuming nest, eggs, and hen, 
and occasionally the adjoining buildings, — in 
which case, and provided the buildings were pro- 
perly insured, the owner made money and lived 
happily ever afterwards. 

Yet there remained a steady increase in the 
business, and of late years the invention and suc- 
cessful adoption of the incubator and brooder 
had forced the business into the front rank of na- 
tional industries. When one reflects on the vast 
scope in the usefulness of an egg, ranging from 
the tempting of the appetite of a broken-down 
sport to the assaulting of a temperance lecturer 
or prima donna assoluta, one cannot wonder at the 
increasing demand. 

In this matter I had no illusions. I knew some- 
thing about hens, as I had kept them in my boy- 
hood. And I knew also the difficulty of making 
them lay with any degree of regularity. But they 
were interesting, if aggravating, and I had no 
doubt of being able, at least, to have fresh eggs 
from my own forcing-house, and spurless spring 
chickens of known and recorded juvenility. The 
unpedigreed egg is sometimes dangerous to 
meddle with. Like the little girl adorned as to 
her forehead with ambrosial locks, — 



LIVESTOCK 21 

"When she was good she was very, very good, ' 
And when she was bad she was horrid." 

I consulted skilled artisans, with a view of suit- 
ably amending my pig-pen to masquerade as an 
attractive henhouse; and while these somewhat 
expensive amendments were in order I cast about 
for means to improve the fertility of my farm. 

I greatly preferred the old-fashioned dressing 
to manufactured fertilizers, and as the snow was 
now overdue, I made arrangements to have a 
large amount of dressing spread over my land 
whenever the weather betokened snow. By these 
means I expected to avoid any unpleasant odor 
by an immediate covering of snow. And so, one 
chill day when the sky was overcast and gray, the 
wind northeast, and a few flakes of feathery snow 
came silently sifting down, I notified the contrac- 
tor, and before I left for the ofiice, teams were 
arriving and brawny Milesians were spreading 
dressing thickly over our premises. 

The odor as I left was a bit penetrating, but a 
brisk snow-storm was beginning, and I reassured 
my family, who were individually expressing 
what seemed to me an unreasonable disposition 
to find fault with our arrangements. 

Within an hour the clouds had cleared away, 
the sun came out, the snow melted, and the tem- 
perature rose many degrees. I was so occupied 
at my office that I did not think much about it 



22 FARMING IT 

until my wife called me up on the 'phone, and the 
following conference ensued : — 

"Hullo?" interrogatively. 

"Hullo," responsively and confirmatively. 

"Is that you?" 

" 'S me." 

"Well, for goodness' sake stop these men 
spreading any more of that horrid old manure. 
It smells so— Hullo! hullo!! hullo!!! Why 
don't you listen ? — dreadfully that we can't 
stand it. We have shut every window and door in 
the house, and of course the steam is just sizzling, 
and — Hullo!" 

"Why don't you tell them to stop?" 

"I have talked and talked to them, and they 
said you told them to put it all on to-day and not 
to stop for any one." 

" Call one of them to the 'phone." 

"What?" 

" Call one of them to the 'phone, and I will talk 
to him." 

" What in the world are you thinking of ? Do 
you suppose I will have one of those smelly men 
right off a dump-cart all over my jQioor ? You 
must come up." 

"Well, I'll come in a few moments." 

" Now do hurry. It is perfectly dreadful ! Oh, 
dear! I wish the plaguy place had been sunk 
before you ever bought it. Good-by." 



LIVESTOCK 23 

" Good-by. " I hung up the receiver, dismissed 
my client, and started for home. 

When I got there — Well, in justice to my 
wife I must admit that she had not overstated the 
case. The greater part of the lawn and field was 
thickly strewn with steaming dressing, the whole 
atmosphere fairly palpitated, and travel on our 
street had practically ceased. 

There was only one thing to do, and I did it. 
Before noon several loads of wood ashes were 
being sifted carefully over my top-dressing, by 
various men and boys whom I had pressed into 
service, and by nightfall the annoyance was 
abated ; the neighbors and their families had re- 
turned from the hotel accommodation they had 
hastily engaged down town; my wife had re- 
considered her determination to bring a libel for 
divorce on the ground of " treatment calculated 
to injure health or reason"; I had paid an ex- 
travagant bill for top-dressing and a still larger 
one for the antidote, and peace was once more 
secured. 

At all events, my land, or a certain part of it, 
would be fertile next spring, and that was the 
main thing after all. So I superintended opera- 
tions on our henhouse and incidentally bought 
a horse. 

I had had considerable experience with horses, 
and had ridden and driven them since I was very 



24 FARMING IT 

small. I already had one, a nervous, high-strung 
sorrel mare, an excellent roadster and fair saddler, 
but too impatient and quick for farm-work, and 
I knew that in the spring the price would be high. 

One day while reading the advertisements of 
horse-sales in Boston, I found one that attracted 
my notice. I paid scant notice to the "Lady 
going to Europe, and who wished to get a good 
home for her seal-brown trotting mare, Jennie 
B.," etc.; to the "Administrator of a deceased 
doctor will sell a fine stable outfit, and will throw 
in the favorite roadster of the doctor " ; to the 
"Forty Canadian chunks just off a contracting 
job." The lady had gone to Europe too often, 
the doctor had departed this life with too much 
regularity, and the Canadian chunks had ap- 
peared in undiminished numbers for too long a 
period, to deceive even me. 

But when I read, "Bay mare of good breed- 
ing, in foal to Electric Jim (2. 16 J), first dam 
Sukey M. (2.21), second dam Wilkes Jane (2.12^) ; 
mare good roadster, sound and kind, had been 
driven by a lady and used to farm-work, sold 
for the high dollar," I was interested at once. 

Perhaps the one thing calculated more than 
any other to stamp a modest farm as a stock- 
breeding establishment is a brood-mare and colt ; 
and besides, since local farmers had given up the 
raising of colts, good, safe, well-broken native 



LIVESTOCK 25 

horses were scarce. Here, at least, was a chance 
to raise a colt with but very little trouble. 

I was on the spot at the date of the sale, and 
on examination the mare pleased me. She would 
weigh about eleven hundred pounds, had good 
clean legs, a kind eye, and an intelligent head. 
Indeed, when she was led out, she pleased the 
crowd, and I found myself bidding against sev- 
eral horsy-looking men. However, by persever- 
ance I finally .had her knocked down to me for 
$175. 

For a week after her arrival I used her singly, 
in double harness, on the road, in the dump-cart, 
and she suited me perfectly. While UQt as fast as 
Polly, she was steady and courageous on the road, 
and was well-mannered and quiet in the stable. 
I was perfectly delighted with my bargain, and 
looked to the foal to much more than offset my 
loss on pigs, and the unusual expense of the dou- 
ble layer of fertilizer. My henhouse had been 
finished and at no great expense, and I consulted 
poultry magazines for which I had subscribed, to 
see which were the best breeds. 

But from them I got no reliable advice, for 
according to all the advertisements and articles I 
read, all breeds were the best layers, and if the 
smaller breeds did not have as much meat on 
them as the larger, their meat was more tender 
and succulent. All were winter layers, non-set- 



26 FARMING IT 

ters, and easily tamed, and the handsomest fowl 
in existence. 

Indeed, the number of breeds had so greatly 
increased, and their names were so unfamiliar, 
that I was for a long time as one wandering in a 
foreign land. I looked in vain for Bolton Grays 
and Rocky Mountains, the two breeds the most 
favored when I was a boy ; I could not find them. 

Instead, I found various varieties of Wyan- 
dottes, Langshans, Minorcas, Orpingtons, Sicilian 
Buttercups, Rhode Island Reds, Anconas, Fa- 
verolles, and others, of which I had never heard. 
I doubt if Rip van Winkle on awakening from his 
long sleep on the mountains was more bewildered 
than I was after my first hour w^ith a poultry 
journal. 

The journal was full of cuts and photographs 
of noble-looking but strange fowl, and of exten- 
sive poultry plants, which both convinced and 
astonished me at the magnitude of the business. 

I also learned that the Hon. R. Cuthbert 
Jenkins had purchased of Lady the Honorable 
Letitia Jane Cholmondeley her entire stock and 
all rights in her famous strain of Jubilee Orping- 
tons, which amazed me intensely. But where 
were the Bolton Grays, and what had become 
of the Rocky Mountain fowl ? Could they have 
utterly perished from the earth like the auk and 
the bustard ? It seemed scarcely possible. The 



LIVESTOCK 27 

Black Spanish, the Brahma, and the Cochin were 
still extant, as well as the Game Fowl and the 
Sebright Bantam. 

I still had some friends and must be content 
with them. It was not until about a week later 
that I found that the Bolton Gray and the 
Rocky Mountain were still in existence, but mas- 
querading under the more pretentious title of 
Silver-Penciled Hamburgs and American Dom- 
inique respectively. And what was delightful, I 
found I could get some in a neighboring town. 
So I took a day off, harnessed my new purchase 
into the farm-wagon in which I had loaded two 
slatted boxes, donned my heavy overcoat, and 
started out to purchase the fowls. I had excellent 
luck, purchased a dozen fine specimens of each 
breed, loaded them on the wagon, and started 
homeward. 

All went well until I got home, when I met with 
a slight accident, which, while the results were 
not very serious, nearly influenced me to sell the 
farm and return to town. There were two stone 
posts at the entrance of my driveway, which I 
could safely negotiate with Polly by day or night, 
in spite of her nervousness and rapid gait. It 
was nearly dark when I got home, and I did not 
realize that I was driving a horse somewhat new 
to the premises. In fact, I was laying plans for 
my fowls and only regained my wits when I 



28 FARMING IT 

found myself on the ground under the superin- 
cumbent weight of two slatted coops filled with 
flapping, squawking, clawing hens, while the 
horse obediently stopped and waited for me to 
regain my seat and take command. 

When the family arrived, all asking questions 
at once and loudly wondering if I were dead, — 
an unreasonable assumption in view of my lan- 
guage, — I had righted my wagon, replaced one 
coop with its prisoners intact, and had stood 
the other on its broken end, from which half of 
its occupants had escaped and were wandering 
round making rustlings in the leaves and bushes. 
After what was left of my load had been safely 
secured in the henhouse, I spent the next two 
hours, lantern in hand, in tracking, chasing, and 
running to earth the fugitive hens, after which, 
completely fagged out, I retired. 



^c^ 



CHAPTER IV 

THE GALLIC WAR 

HE next morning I was at the hen- 
house before I took care of the horses. 
It was a sharp morning, with overcast 
sky, and the fowls looked a trifle 
hunchy. 

However, some dry grain scattered among the 
litter on the floor of their pens set them scratching 
actively, and as they scratched and warmed to 
their work they began to prate cheerfully, while 
the two cocks paraded up and down in front of 
their wire partition, defying each other, and saying 
doubtless all manner of evil things of each other. 
As I watched them swell and strut and lower 
their heads defiantly, and occasionally make a 
short rush at each other, a vague shadow of the 
old feeling that used to induce me when a boy to 
toss our rooster over a neighbor's fence, and then 
watch the battle that would ensue, came over me, 
and for a moment I felt a sinful desire to let them 
together for just a few jumps. 

The Hamburg was a handsome, silvery fellow, 
with long sickle feathers and well - developed 



30 FARMING IT 

spurs, while the Dominique was solid and 
chunky, with the well-marked hawk plumage 
that glowed with health. 

However, I refrained, and after watching them 
until breakfast-time, I went in without having 
fed and watered Polly and our well-bred brood- 
mare, which welcomed me after breakfast with 
reproachful nickerings and pricked-up ears. 

That noon, to my great delight, I found three 
fresh eggs in the nests, which I conveyed tri- 
umphantly into the house, dropping one on the 
floor, however, in my eagerness to show them to 
my wife, and induce her to retract certain opin- 
ions she had expressed to the effect that I would 
never 'get a single egg from my old hens as long 
as I lived. 

I might say in passing that that egg was some- 
what more than ruined for life. The painstaking 
endeavors I made to scrape it up with a spoon 
added nothing to its value or sphere of usefulness. 
But never mind, I had at least received some 
financial return for my outlay. Eggs were worth 
forty-two cents a dozen. 

That afternoon the long delayed snow-storm 
came, and before morning nearly a foot had fallen. 
I was out betimes w^ith shovel and plough, and it 
was a pleasure to sit on the plough and drive 
while my son wielded the shovel. Exercise is a 
good thing for the young, and one of the greatest 



THE GALLIC WAR 31 

pleasures I experience is to sit and see others 
work. 

The air was brisk and full of oxygen, the snow 
was dazzling in the bright sunshine, the jolly 
tinkle of the sleigh-bells filled the air, while a 
flock of juncos sported in the tall dry weeds and 
grasses that in the fence-corners barely showed 
their drooping heads above their white mantle. 

I felt the beauty of the country and country life 
as never before, and how petty seemed my disap- 
pointments in life, in the great peace that seemed 
to spread over the face of Nature ! As I went down 
to the oflSce that morning, leaving my stock warm 
and well fed and my modest farm half buried in 
fleecy clouds of snow, I thought how much of life 
and beauty is now hidden safe and warm under 
Nature's blankets, only awaiting that magic 
summons to spring up into active and beneficent 
fruition. 

All that day sleighs dashed about town, and 
wood-sleds drawn by single teams, pairs, and 
fours thronged the streets. The farmers had 
been waiting for the snow. This set me thinking. 
What cleaner, better, fresher farm-work could 
there be than chopping in the winter woods. 
That's it! I would do it. Business was not very 
brisk in the ofiice, and if it were, there was no 
particular need of a man being a slave to his 
profession. I had known instances of men actu- 



32 FARMING IT 

ally drying up in my profession, and being, as far 
as real usefulness is concerned, " Like thin ghosts 
or disembodied creatures." 

The one thing I needed to develop a real home- 
like, woodsy, farmer-like feeling was to get into 
the woods, and load wood, and smell the delicious 
fragrance of the pines and the balsam of the 
freshly cut trunks. 

That afternoon I borrowed a sinojle-horse sled of 
Daniel, equipped with a work-harness and chain- 
traces, arranged with him for a load or two of 
cord - wood piled in a distant wood - lot, and 
started with a Hibernian friend for the lot, to 
pluck and garner it for myself. Arrived at the lot, 
I let down the bars and drove along a rough 
lumber-road, through another pair of bars, down 
a hemlock-shaded path, where the heavily laden 
branches dipped and showered us with feathery 
masses. Then across a small bridge spanning a 
frozen, snow-covered brook, until I came to a 
cleared lot dotted with piles of neatly corded 
wood. 

In the distance we could see the smoke of a 
shanty fire, and hear the songs of Canadian 
wood-choppers, "Habitants of story," and the 
ring and thud of their axes. "Jolly, happy fel- 
lows," I thought, "true, care-free sons of the 
woods, without sordid thoughts, without disturb- 
ing and unhappy ambitions destined never to be 



THE GALLIC WAR 33 

rewarded. They indeed have the true secret of 
happiness. Enough to eat, enough to wear, 
health, the fresh air laden with balsamic fra- 
grance, never a thought of money. Jolly, happy 
fellows, they are to be envied." 

And so, intent on such thought, I sprang 
lightly from our sled, donned my leather mittens, 
and vied with Pat in loading cord-wood. True, 
I did not successfully vie with him, because that 
seasoned veteran loaded by far the greater part of 
it ; but I, in a measure, superintended the job and 
occasionally landed a stick on the sled. 

We took good measure, Pat saw to that, and 
when we started we were obliged to pry the run- 
ners out of the ruts where they had frozen. Lady 
M. pulled grandly, and we were smoothly sailing 
across the lot on the down-grade, when we heard 
loud shouting in our rear, and turned to see a 
picturesque figure in blanket-coat, moccasins, 
and toque, w^ildly weaving its hands and shouting 
a jumbled and somewhat incoherent mixture of 
French and English, from which we gathered 
that he had some suspicions of the honesty of our 
intentions. 

"Voleur, arretez-vous, you have ma hwood 
vole; par la Sainte Vierge, you have steal ma 
hwood, 'ere Bapteme, bagosh, seh!" 

Rushing frantically to the horse's head, he 
grasped the reins, as if to prevent our escape. 



34 FARMING IT 

whereupon Pat tumbled off the load, spitting on 
his hands and exclaiming, "Dom the moonkey, 
lave me poonch th' Dago hid off him, whirxoo !" 
And he jumped two feet in the air and cracked his 
heels together. I violently restrained Pat and 
ordered him on the load, which was good general- 
ship on my part, as, from the neighboring lot, 
twenty excited compatriots of the first gaudy 
brigand came piling over the fence, and sur- 
rounded us amid a torrent of Gallic expletives. 

"For the love of hivin, yer 'anner," pleaded 
Pat, "lave me lick the twinty of thim, lave me 
land one poonch on the dhirty moog of ould Plaid 
Belly" ; by which appropriate title he designated 
the premier brigand. 

"Keep quiet, Pat," I remonstrated, "this is a 
case for arbitration." 

"Arbitration be dommed," growled Pat, "wan 
good belt in th' gob of ould Plaid Belly wud do 
th' job aisy." 

However, I refused Pat's modest request, and 
raising my hand impressively, addressed the 
leader in our best Exeter Cotton Mill French. 

"Messieurs, qu'avez vous m'en voudre; Ich 
weiss nicht was zie meinen, dites-moi, pour 
I'amour de Dieu. What is it that it is .^" 

Now this was so plain that even Pat was heard 
to mutter, "Begob, he can talk Dago talk awl 
right." 




TOU HAVE STEAL MA HWOOD ! 



THE GALLIC WAR 35 

"Vous etes un scelerat, vous have steal ma 
hwood, mille tonneurs, sacre', bagosh, me!" he 
shouted. 

"'Cre Bapture, bagosh," responded the chorus 
of voyageurs, "mille tonneurs." 

" Jist wan poonch, yer 'anner," pleaded Pat. 

"Shut up, Pat, I will run this affair without 
any fighting," I replied. 

" Pardon, messieurs, vous avez fait un faux pas. 
J'ai verkaup die bois von Herr Gilman, a qui 
' appartient tous les bois herein." 

" II n'appartient a M'sieu Gilman, il appartient 
a moi. I have it buy of M'sieu Gilman, me! " he 
shouted, waving his arms. 

"Oui, oui, bagosh, c'est vrai," responded the 
chorus. 

" Oh, wirra, wirra, 't would be aisy," mur- 
mured Pat. 

"Monsieur," I continued, courteously, "parlez 
un peu plus lentement, un peu langsam. La 
conversation rapide nicht mir gefallt." 

"Bien, m'sieu," he responded more affably, 
apparently soothed by my lingual attainments, 
"I have buy the hwood of M'sieu Gilman. J'ai 
coupe le bois pour lui, et il m'a paye de I'ar- 
gent, il m'a vendu le bois detache, for one hun- 
ner twonny-fav dollar, bagosh, seh, n'est ce 
pas .?" 

"Bagosh, seh," echoed the chorus. 



36 FARMING IT 

"Ich verstehe parfaitement," I replied. "Je 
vous paierai pour les bois, si vous voulez," I con- 
tinued gracefully. 

Thereupon smiles beamed on Gallic faces and 
peace seemed imminent, much to the disgust of 
Pat, who yearned for war. 

"Bien, m'sieu," said the other, " eef m'sieu 
me giv fav dollar, m'sieu can eet have." 

"Th' robber! lave me — " began Pat. 

"Pat," I interrupted, "we have been trespass- 
ing, and it is only fair that we should compensate 
this gentleman for the annoyance we have caused. 
We should be the first to recognize the justice of 
his claim, and do what we can to foster in these 
adopted citizens a respect for the law, that you 
and I as American citizens have." 

"Hill and blazes!" scoffed Pat, "wan good 
poonch wud tach thim dommed canucks more 
rispict than fhorty laws, and lave me give 'im 
jist wan for loock." 

But I refused, and handing a five-dollar bill to 
our friend, I gathered up the reins and drove off, 
not before we heard our "care-free sons of the 
woods, without sordid thoughts, without disturb- 
ing and unhappy ambitions destined never to be 
rewarded," remark to one another : — 

"Nom de Dieu, il a paye enormement; quel 
fou ! he-he-he 'ere Bapteme." 

And that night when we called on Daniel and 



THE GALLIC WAR 37 

related our experience, that guileful individual 
nearly had a seizure from convulsions of sinful 
mirth. But seriously, was that a Christian way 
of treating a man and a brother ? 




CHAPTER V 

HENS 

HE next day I was so stiffened by my 
somewhat unusual exertions that I 
fairly creaked. So I rather slighted 
the grooming of my horses, but looked 
carefully to the welfare of my thoroughbred 
fowls, and was fully rewarded by seeing two on 
the nests. 

That day a slatted box arrived at my office by 
express, containing a most magnificent black- 
red gamecock. I was out when the expressman 
arrived, or I should have required him to deliver 
it at my farm. As it was, the bird kept up a most 
terrific crowing during the forenoon, leaving 
some doubt in the minds of casual callers or pro- 
spective clients as to whether they were entering a 
cockpit, a poultry exhibition, or the unassuming 
office of an attorney-at-law and amateur farmer. 
As the charges had been prepaid by my unknown 
benefactor, I felt that I could afford to secure 
the bird's transmission to my farm at the hands 
of a small boy and at the expense of ten cents. 

That noon when I went to lunch, I first re- 
paired to my barn to liberate the gamecock. 



HENS 39 

But somebody had evidently anticipated my 
humane desire to emancipate the prisoner, and 
I found the box empty. A dreadful suspicion 
occurred to me, and I made rapid strides for the 
hencoop, where I found my fears confirmed. 

A battle had been fought, and evidences of it 
in the shape of tufts of silvery feathers scattered 
over the pen in which my beautiful Hamburg 
cock had been confined were abundant, while 
in a corner, looking like a soiled and frayed 
feather-duster, lay the remains of that proud and 
well-bred bird. His conqueror, splendid and un- 
hurt, scratched and curveted before the con- 
sorts of the late deceased king, and crowed so 
lustily that the very rafters rang, and occasion- 
ally, as if to dissipate any doubt that the ladies 
present might have entertained of his being the 
"champeen," took a whack at his antagonist, 
and plucked from the stiffened and prostrate form 
a choice nosegay of feathers, which he strewed 
at the feet of the penciled beauties. 

Either my instructions had not been sufficiently 
explicit, or that boy possessed a strong strain of 
sporting blood in his composition. "If I could 
only catch that rascal I would — " Well, I 
could n't really say what I would do, but I prob- 
ably would have cross-questioned him severely 
for the purpose of ascertaining just what sort of 
a fight the old Hamburg put up. 



40 FARMING IT 

The next thing was to get the gamecock out 
of the pen. It was my intention when I bought 
those Hamburgs to breed to a feather, and not 
allow any hybrids on the farm, but the presence 
of an alien rooster of undisputed lineage, but 
practically unknown moral standing, in a flock 
of young and giddy female birds, mere school- 
girl biddies in fact, might excite in the unre- 
generate a suspicion of a taint in the blood of 
their progeny, to say nothing of a blot on their 
moral escutcheon. 

So I opened the door between the pens, stepped 
in, and carefully fastened it to avoid a second 
fatality to the Dominique at its hands, or rather 
at its heels. While my back was turned and my 
attention occupied in this task, the feathered 
pugilist struck me a most vicious blow in the 
calf of my right leg, which hurt outrageously, and 
so angered me that I rushed furiously after him. 

Away he went round the coop, flapping and 
swearing in shrill gallinaceous language, while 
I came right after him, doing my best to answer 
his remarks in vigorous English. Now any one 
who has endeavored to catch an adult and frantic 
rooster in a small room, and in the midst of a 
round dozen of hysterical and gymnastic hens, 
in full possession of astonishing powers of speech 
and motion, knows what a dreadful task is before 
one. 



HENS 41 

It seemed as if every single hen had been mul- 
tiplied by ten, shedding shrieks, squawks, feathers, 
dust, and scratches ; and as I pursued that gor- 
geous devil up, over, round, and through the pen, 
I was bombarded with hens. One frantic biddy 
collided with my best stiff hat so violently that it 
was knocked off, stepped on, and ruined, before 
I was aware of its loss. Another nearly blinded 
me as I unexpectedly intercepted its arrow-like 
flight from one roost to another; the number of 
times I bumped my head against those roosts 
was beyond computation ; I stepped on the edge 
of a large, deep tin pan filled with water, and the 
same promptly reared aloft and cast its contents 
over my soiled, dusty, and feather-covered per- 
son. Two hens escaped by dashing bodily through 
the windows, which I had neglected to have 
properly protected by wire ; but at last I caught 
that infernal gamecock by the legs, whereupon, 
finding itself caught, it stopped squawking, 
reached for my unoccupied hand, and with its 
iron beak gouged a segment therefrom and 
struggled to bring its sharp spurs to play. 

When, after rescuing the mangled remains 
of my hat and immuring the murderer in a sepa- 
rate prison, I returned to my family I was an 
appalling sight. I was festooned with cobwebs, 
downy with feathers, covered with dust, and 
drenched with water. One side of my face was 



42 FARMING IT 

smeared with dirt, and the other was seamed with 
scratches where maniacal pullets had deftly 
dealt me glancing blows, my hand was bleeding, 
and my new hat ruined. 

However, I had determined to become a farmer, 
and all my unpleasant experiences were in a way 
valuable, and would doubtless bear fruit. In sonie 
w^ays farming had not proved exactly profitable, 
but it was far more exciting than I had ever 
dreamed. 

For the week following the chase of the game- 
cock, and the tragic death of our fine stock bird, 
I was quite closely confined to the office with an 
epidemic of legal business that broke loose. It 
seemed as if almost every third man I met was 
tormented with an unconquerable desire to quar- 
rel about a right of way, to institute criminal pro- 
ceedings for the collection of a civil claim, or to 
file a libel for divorce on untenable grounds. 

This tried me severely, for while such business 
is seldom remunerative, and needs to be sorted 
out with the greatest care, the legal transaction 
of the best of it, to say the least, adds nothing to 
one's reputation either as a lawyer or a gentle- 
man, which terms should be, but are not always, 
synonymous. 

Again, clients in such classes of business know 
so much more than their legal advisers, and are 
so tenacious of their opinions, that in many cases 



^-V'#Vi^fe^ 




I STEPPED ON THE EDGE OF A LARGE, DEEP TIN PAN 



'■•'.VI >?;' V-"'^',* 



HENS 43 

it is almost impossible to get rid of them without 
resorting to violence. 

And so, at the end of the next week I was just 
yearning for a taste of the farm, and for a chance 
to put to the test some of the theories I had 
been forming in regard to the proper develop- 
ment of my stock and the bringing my farm up 
to the standard set by government publications 
of the Agricultural Department. I had studied 
faithfully the various poultry books and maga- 
zines, and felt that I could at once detect that 
grim destroyer, roup, the moment I saw it; and 
for several days I had, when feeding and water- 
ing my fowls, looked them over with considerable 
trepidation, fearful of the dread scourge, and yet 
determined if necessary to kill, burn, and reduce 
to infinite nothingness any unfortunate fowls that 
might be attacked, and even prepared to go to 
the extreme length of burning the hencoop. 

I also learned with profound regret that there 
was no known remedy for fatty degeneration of 
the liver, or tumors in the gizzard, but that pip 
could be cured by certain preparations to be pro- 
cured only of the advertiser; that gapes and 
cholera could be promptly cured by explicitly 
following certain directions sent by mail, "En- 
close twenty-five cents in stamps," which I did, 
and received "specific directions" to kill the af- 
fected specimens at once ; that bumble-foot could 



44 FARMING IT 

be also effectually remedied by cutting open the 
foot and rubbing in a preparation, the ingredients 
of which could be obtained only of the advertiser ; 
that this remedy was the result of years of study 
at the expense of thousands of dollars. 

I also learned that there were thirty or forty 
"best" remedies for vermin, fifteen or twenty 
"only" remedies for vermin, and at least a dozen 
"best and only" remedies for vermin. Indeed, 
so much was said of the ravages of vermin that 
I felt quite crawly every time I finished a poul- 
try magazine. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE REMEDY AND THE DISEASE 




LEARNED how to caponize fowls, 
at least in theory, and when I sent for 
a price-list of caponizing instruments, 
I was deluged for weeks with pam- 
phlets and appeals, and men with beards and 
without neckties called and tried to sell me ex- 
pensive sets of instruments. 

I read a particularly fine and smoothly written 
article claiming that, if the moulting period 
could be brought on in June by any method of 
feeding, fall and winter eggs would be plentiful, 
and that a fortune awaited a successful solution 
of this vexed problem. Indeed, I had been so 
interested in this matter that I hazarded another 
twenty-five cents as an investment in one ad- 
vertiser who claimed to possess the secret, and 
to be willing to impart it at that reasonable figure 
to all comers. I was not particularly disappointed 
when I received the following instructions : " Pick 
the fowls thoroughly without killing, about the 
20th of May in each year, then let their feathers 
grow." 



46 FARMING IT 

I had purchased two game-hens to make con- 
finement less irksome to my gamecock, and sent 
for a new Hamburg cock; the hens were laying 
well, and I began to lay plans for spring planting. 

Although spring was far away, catalogues were 
to be had for the asking ; and daily, in high rubber 
boots, I walked over my land, making plans to 
have a vegetable garden here, some pear trees 
here, a pie-plant patch here, a row of sunflowers 
by the fence, and a grape arbor by the side of the 
barn. 

I desired to add a Jersey cow to my personal 
possessions, but could not quite see my way clear 
to spare the time necessary to milk and care for 
her without neglecting the duties of my profes- 
sion. 

I was brought somewhat abruptly from my 
theorizing by an unexpected development in the 
hen industry. One morning, on going to feed 
them, I found one hen dead in a corner, headless 
and badly gnawed, — evidently the work of rats, 
as a hole in a corner of the pen showed only too 
plainly. 

This was a calamity second only to roup. I had 
read of whole communities of fowls ravaged by 
rats, and the remedy was obvious ; not traps or 
cats or terriers, but ferrets, the one animal that 
could pursue rats into their subterranean fast- 
nesses and there conquer and destroy them. 



REMEDY AND DISEASE 47 

I removed the deceased pullet, buried it in 
the compost heap, plugged up the rat-hole with 
broken glass and tin, and sought the latest poul- 
try magazine. There it was: "Five Hundred 
Ferrets for Sale." Here again : "Ferrets for sale, 
the only means of effectually ridding your prem- 
ises of rats." And here: "Ferrets, the friend of 
poultry," and "Ferrets, the preserver of fowls." 

I did not want five hundred of them, but thought 
a pair of healthy specimens would be a mighty 
good investment. The main winter industry of 
my farm was threatened with extinction, and it 
behooved me to act, and act with promptness. 

So I went to Boston the next day, although it 
is my principle never to travel unnecessarily, ex- 
cept in the transaction of business for a client, 
and at his expense. I went directly to a bird store 
on Portland Street, and inquired for ferrets. I 
was shown some beauties, — that is, the pro- 
prietor spoke of them as beauties, although to 
me they seemed snaky, red-eyed varmints of a 
most unattractive and unprepossessing appear- 
ance. 

They had, however, some astonishing ac- 
complishments, which amazed me greatly. The 
dealer put five of them into a cigar-box, in the 
cover of which was a small round hole, out of 
which one promptly poked its head, and seizing a 
piece of raw meat the dealer held out to it, hung to 



48 FARMING IT 

it with a grip of steel, while the box with its entire 
weight swung to and fro. Then, opening the box 
and allowing two to fasten their jaws to a piece 
of meat, he took one by the tail and swung them 
both over his head without loosening their grip. 
He handled them like kittens without any dan- 
ger, and assured me they were well trained and 
harmless, but cautioned me against handling 
them when they were fastened to their natural 
prey, the rat. 

I was convinced, and bought a pair. I was 
doubtful whether or not I should choose a sort 
of sorrel and a black, but finally decided on a 
roan with gray mane and tail, and a buckskin 
with red eyes, had them safely wired in a box, 
and took the next train back. 

I could scarcely wait for the train to arrive at 
my station, so anxious was I to try the skill of 
my new purchase ; and as soon as I removed my 
overcoat, I put for the henhouse, opened the box, 
and turned the ferrets down the rat-hole, which, 
in my absence, had been widened materially, 
and in they went. 

No sooner had they disappeared than a sharp 
squealing was heard far down in the bowels of 
the earth, and in a moment the hole appeared to 
boil over with rats. One gray - whiskered old 
fellow started to climb over me, and gave me a 
horrible fright, but I shook him off and killed him 



REMEDY AND DISEASE 49 

with a shovel. The rest darted out of the half- 
open door, and went leaping away over the 
snow. 

While I was awaiting the reappearance of my 
ferrets, and after the excited hens had calmed 
down, a sudden commotion in the other coop 
attracted my attention, and hastily stepping in 
I found a fine pullet struggling and flapping in 
her death-agonies, with my buckskin ferret hang- 
ing to her windpipe. Seizing it by the body with 
one hand and the moribund pullet with the other, 
I tore it from its quarry, when it turned upon me 
and sunk its teeth in my forefinger, nor would it 
let go although I danced and swore and shook my 
wounded hand violently. It was only when I 
choked it nearly to death with the other hand 
that I loosed its grip, slammed it in its box, and 
fastened the cover. 

After bandaging my hand I waited for the 
roan to come forth. What to do to entice it from 
its safe retreat I did not know. For a while I 
whistled. I did not know whether or not that 
was the proper r salutation, but I tried it for 
what it was worth. It was probably not good 
form in musteline circles, for the roan paid no 
attention to it. 

Then I tried the bleeding form of the freshly 
killed hen ; but the wary animal evidently had 
seen niy rude treatment of the buckskin, and 



50 FARMING IT 

was resolved not to give me an opportunity to 
maltreat it, and came not forth. 

Finally, I had recourse to water poured down 
the hole. I w^as bound to have that animal now 
dead or alive, and for half an hour poured pail 
after pail of water down the hole without the slight- 
est impression. The faster I poured, the faster 
the water disappeared and the drier the hole 
seemed. It was evident that the hole was con- 
nected with some great subterranean lake or cave, 
and I could n't have filled it by any method short 
of turning the river through it. 

And so, at my wits' end, I devised the follow- 
ing scheme. I sawed a hole in a box, arranged 
an entrance of wire that, like a trap for homing 
pigeons, allowed a visitor to enter, but prevented 
a tenant from jumping his board-bill, poked the 
buckskin into the box, — I did not dare to han- 
dle that savage biter, — placed the box near the 
hole, and then, after stopping up the other hole, 
left them for the night. 

The next morning I repaired at an unusually 
early hour to the coop, and, to my unbounded 
amazement, found that the buckskin had escaped 
and with its mate had been on a reign of terror, 
and that three of my best birds lay foully mur- 
dered. 

My indignation knew no bounds. I thought 
of poison, of shot-guns, of boiling water, and 



REMEDY AND DISEASE 51 

of other cruel and drastic measures, but as a last 
resort, and after a practically accurate repetition 
of the scene of the chase of the gamecock, caught 
and removed all the living hens from the coop, 
procured two steel traps, baited them with raw 
meat, and before noon caught both marauders, 
which were so badly hurt that I had to kill them. 

Thus did I learn another valuable but expen- 
sive lesson. I afterwards was told by a veteran 
of experience that the whole difficulty could have 
been avoided by using muzzles on my ferrets, 
which would then drive the rats away perma- 
nently without endangering my fowls. 

I mended the broken windows, replaced my de- 
pleted flock with others of like species, and for a 
time my farm life was uneventful. Daily I fed 
and watered, bedded and groomed my horses, 
and cared for my hens. Snow-storms came, and 
the drifts piled high round my buildings. Yet 
it was a pleasure to wield the broad snow-shovel 
and drive Lady M. to plough through the drifts. 
It was also a pleasure, of a sunny afternoon, to 
saddle Polly and the pony and ride out into the 
country. The world of white is very beautiful, the 
air is crisp and tingling, the snow, hard-beaten in 
the roadway, is soft, dry, and feathery at the sides. 

But perhaps the pleasure that leaves the keener 
and more complete sense of satisfaction in one's 
mind is this. A cold biting wind from the north- 



52 FARMING IT 

east has brought a fierce drifting snow-storm in 
its wake. All day long it has snowed and drifted, 
and with increasing cold. The storm has driven 
pedestrians indoors, scarcely a sleigh - bell is 
heard, while the sifting snow whirls and ed- 
dies and dashes against the window-panes, and 
the wind wails and shrieks and sobs around the 
building. 

It is three o'clock, there are no clients, and T 
start for home. The blast stings as I strike the 
open, and I have to pause to get my breath, then 
with lowered head plunge through the drifts, 
beaten, lashed, and staggering in the cutting wind, 
while the fine, dry snow stings my face like 
needles. 

Arrived at the farm, out of breath and half- 
frozen, I put on my stable clothes, a heavy sweater, 
lumbermen's felt boots and a woolen toque, in- 
case my hands in heavy woolen gloves, mix up a 
mess of hot mash with enough hard grain in it 
to last, and a dash of cayenne pepper, and stag- 
ger through the drifts to the hencoop. 

The hens are already on the roost, as the after- 
noon is growing dark in the storm, but they read- 
ily come down and fill themselves to repletion on 
the steaming mess. I see that all windows are 
fast and all water-cans emptied, and when the 
last morsel is eaten and the satisfied birds are 
beginning to fly back to their roosts and settle 



REMEDY AND DISEASE 53 

themselves comfortably, with little clucks and 
chirps of satisfaction, I leave them, shut and 
lock the outer door, and go to the stable. 

Here I find the snow so drifted that I have to 
kick it away from the door before I can open it. 
I lead the horses out of their stalls into the floor, 
stagger to the house and back with pails of water, 
then shake down their hay, fill their grain-box 
and bed them ankle-deep with clean, dry straw. 

I then readjust their blankets, tighten their 
girths, and close the door of the stall-room, leaving 
them comfortably bedded and fed, as warm and 
comfortable as dry beds and tight quarters and 
good food can make them. 

As I close and lock the barn-door, it is dusk and 
the storm is increasing. In the sheltered places 
under the eaves and under the roofs of the open 
sheds colonies of English sparrows are gathering ; 
and as I reach the house, change my clothes, and 
take a cushioned rocker by the library fire, I feel 
a deep satisfaction that the stock is safe and 
comfortable. 

And while the wind howls round the house that 
night, and the snow dashes against the windows 
and rattles on the clapboards, I sleep the better 
for that thought. 



CHAPTER VII 



MY OLD FRIEND NICK I A FAILURE IN WHOLE- 
SALE 




S might be expected from statements 
made in the preceding chapters I was 
no novice in the raising of poultry. 
Indeed, on one occasion I had gone 
into poultry-culture in a sort of wholesale way 
which bid fair to make or break me and my part- 
ner, and did one or the other thing to both of us, as 
the story will show. 

It is many years now since my old friend Nick 
died. A queer, whimsical little chap was Nick. 
A weazened, crooked, bandy-legged little man 
of fifty-five or sixty, with a face like that of a little 
gnome fashioned out of a hickory nut, such as 
we occasionally see in small stores. His nose was 
immense, and had acquired a sidewise twist 
that to follow would keep him traveling in an 
endless circle (circles are endless come to think 
of it), while his smile would provoke an answer- 
ing smile from a graven image. A sparsely grown 
beard of the color of badly cured salt hay, and of 
that peculiarly wiry quality of the hair in cheap 



MY OLD FRIEND NICK 55 

mattresses or haircloth sofas, completed a per- 
sonality at once grotesque and pathetic. 

Nick's voice was of a queer, high-pitched qual- 
ity, his pronunciation of the broadest cockney, 
and his profanity picturesque and voluble almost 
beyond belief. Like the steamboat mate in the 
book : — 

** He would curse things with an emphasis 
So extremely rich and rare, 
As to savor of the fervency 
And eloquence of prayer." 

And yet despite the physical disabilities under 
which Nick labored I liked him, respected him, 
and was genuinely amused whenever I saw or 
spoke with him. And I was not alone in this. 
No child feared him, no dog passed him without 
a wag of the tail, and no human being ever re- 
ceived other than kindness at his hands. 

He was a weaver by trade, and years before 
had come from England with his brother 'Arry, 
whose faithful shadow he was until 'Arry's tragic 
death years later. 'Arry, also a weaver, had 
prospered, and was a person of considerable im- 
portance in the community. 

Nick had not prospered. He had worked, like 
'Arry, faithfully and hard, but his earnings went 
like smoke. What 'Arry expressed a desire for, 
Nick would get for him. What 'Arry's son and 
daughter desired, Nick gave freely and without 



56 FARMING IT 

stint. Whenever his friends needed help, they 
went to Nick. He gave what he had without 
question, freely, cheerfully, with that true spirit 
of giving that asks no return. 

So much was he bound up in the fortunes of 
'Arry, that when the manufacturing company for 
which they both worked saw fit to dismiss 'Arry 
on account of some difference of opinion as to his 
earning capacity, Nick at once gave notice, and 
retired in huge disgust and amid a storm of pro- 
fanity that lasted for the entire week. 

"An' sayes th' owd mon t' me," said Nick one 

day in explanation of the matter, *' * Nick, th'art 

worket ower weel twonty yeer, wheerfore needst 

thago?'" 

" An' Hi sayes to 'e, ' An' ma brither 'Arry 's na 

gude enow t' work for tha, it's to 'ell tha canst 

go wi tha owd mill for aw Nick ! ' An' wi' thot 

Hi stamped hout th' dure. An' th' owd mon wa 

graidely sore ower it." 

'Arry was killed one day while crossing the 
railroad track, and with his death came a great 
change into Nick's life. He was not less kind to 
his friends, or less thoughtful of the welfare of 
those to whom he was indebted for a home. But 
he was not the careless, jolly, cheerful Nick of old. 

My intimate acquaintance with Nick began 
about this time, in connection with the settlement 
of 'Arry's estate. Nick, while not deriving any 



MY OLD FRIEND NICK 57 

benefit from the estate, nevertheless, in his zeal 
to further the settlement, succeeded in involving 
himself in several legal entanglements, from 
which it was my privilege to rescue him, and I 
thereby earned his gratitude and admiration to 
such a degree that he delivered frequent and 
high-pitched assertions to the effect that " 'Enry 
was a 'ell of a feller." He further paid me the 
following (we hope undeserved) compliment : 
'' Hi like tha, 'Enry, dormned if Hi don't. Tha 't 
more lang-leggit nor 'Arry, but tha' sweers for 
aw th' world like 'Arry." I accepted the homage 
thus given, but had mental reservations as to my 
ability to "sweer like 'Arry," who was an artist 
in that line. 

The want of worldly goods under ordinary 
circumstances did not affect Nick in the least de- 
gree; yet I surmised from some of his remarks 
that he was beginning to feel that he was prac- 
tically penniless. His nephew, who had suc- 
ceeded to 'Arry's farm, had generously offered 
him a home, but, as Nick feelingly remarked, — 

" Johnny 's aw reet, but 't is na th' same. Wi' 
'Arry things were sair differ; aw thot 'Arry 'ad 
were mine, hand aw thot Hi 'ad were 'Arry's." 

I suggested that he go back to the mill, but he 
was profanely adamant in his refusal. 

"Blawst th' blank-dashed owd mill," was his 
sole comment; and then he added: "Tha sees, 



58 FARMING IT 

'Enry, Hi always wanted a 'en farm. Hi cood 
raise cheekins liout o' dure-knobs, 'n' fatten 'em 
an sawdoost." 

Now I had always experienced a consuming 
desire to own a farm, and raise chickens and 
Jersey cattle, and lambs with bells and blue 
ribbons on their necks, and merry milkmaids 
with short dresses, and wands crisscrossed with 
bright ribbon in their hands, and large blue 
rosettes on their fairy slippers. It might be that 
Nick was the messenger of fate to lead me to the 
much desired Utopia. 

"How would you like to go into partnership 
with me, Nick .^" I asked him. 

"Weel, 'Enry, an' 'ow wouldst tha divide.^" 
queried Nick shrewdly, while a hideous smile 
overspread his nut-cracker face. 

" Well, Nick," I said, " I will furnish the money, 
you raise the chickens, and at the end of the sea- 
son, we will go snacks." 

"Aw reet, 'Enry," he said, "th' art fairer than 
Hi thot ower lawyer would be"; and with that 
I reached down and Nick reached up, and we 
shook hands on the partnership. 

The next day Nick informed me that Johnny 
had allowed him the use of a quarter acre of 
land for a chicken-yard, and secured from me 
enough money to purchase posts and wire for 
a fence thereunto to appertain and belong. 



MY OLD FRIEND NICK 59 

For two or three days Nick worked tremen- 
dously, and then appeared at my office and ob- 
tained, not without some difficulty, a further 
stipend for the purpose of procuring setters and 
eggs. Having bled me freely he departed in great 
good humor, remarking as he closed the door, — 

" 'Enry, we'll fill the 'ole bloomin' tow^n wi' 
cheekins." 

The next day he passed the office driving 
Johnny's old white mare, hitched to a rattle cart 
containing an immense dry-goods box, upon 
which Nick was perched like Punch on the top 
of a circus van. He w^as followed by Johnny's 
savage dog, which took advantage of the day 
of freedom to pitch into all strange dogs ; and 
Nick was obliged frequently to climb from his 
perch and with a cart-stake to rush into a whirl- 
wind of fighting curs and a medley of objur- 
gatory sounds something like this : " 'I theer ! 'I ! 
blawst tha bloomin' heyes, ugr-r-r-yi-yi-ugr-r- 
r-raugh-o-raugh-thump-whack-down tha Tige- 
yi-yi-ugr-r-r-raugh-thump-whack-yi-yi-dom tha 
hide — coom aw^a noo!" And then, having tem- 
porarily restored peace, he w^ould climb on his 
van and proceed until the next interruption, when 
he would again descend, and wdth the assistance 
of the dogs rehearse the entire programme. 

Toward evening, as I was coming out of the 
office, I heard a most terrific rattling, barking, 



60 FARMING IT 

and squawking, and from down the street, amid 
a cloud of dust, came the old white mare, urged 
to her full speed. On the box sat Nick, who had 
taken the precaution to chain the dog in the 
wagon, from which position the animal tugged 
and barked at a half score of excited dogs that 
surrounded the wagon, swearing vigorously in 
dog language at their assailant of the morning. 

On seeing me, Nick pulled up so suddenly as 
to hurl the dog heels-over-head, while he himself 
narrowly escaped shooting over the old mare's 
head, and the collar of that patient animal went 
to her ears. 

" Got thirty o' 'em, 'Enry, but 'ad to pay a 'ell 
of a price. 'Ens is gone hup," he shrieked ; and 
away he went clattering down the street, while 
I mused apprehensively over what his idea of 
"a 'ell of a price" might be. 

The next day he made a further demand on me 
for funds wherewith to purchase eggs and sup- 
plies, and for a time I heard no more of Nick. 
I had expressed to him some fear that his vigor- 
ous measures of the day before might have shaken 
some of the hens' determination, or seriously 
impaired their maternal instincts, but was reas- 
sured when he remarked that it was "Heasy 
enow to make a 'en set, if a mon knowed 'ow." 

A few days before the expected arrival of the 
chicks, I went down to the farm to inspect his 




AMID A CLOUD OF DUST CAME THE OLD WHITE MARE 



MY OLD FRIEND NICK 61 

plant and methods. His idea was original, amus- 
ing, and effective. In a spacious and well-venti- 
lated room he had arranged a series of boxes 
containing the nests of straw, upon each of which 
a hen was thrust, with a ventilated cover of 
boards super-imposed ; and a huge stone upon 
that served to keep straw, hen, and eggs firmly in 
place. Each day the hens were liberated in re- 
lays, allowed twenty minutes to feed, drink, dust 
and stretch, and at the expiration of the recess, 
were chased, caught, and re-imprisoned amid a 
chorus of squawks, a shower of dust and feathers, 
and original outbursts of language from Nick. 

In spite of this rough method, his success was 
phenomenal, and about four hundred chickens 
arrived in due time. A few days previous to their 
arrival Nick had made a further demand for 
funds to purchase barrels, corn-meal, cracked 
corn, wheat-screenings, baker's waste, barley, 
and other necessary supplies. 

The barrels were arranged facing the east, 
the open ends flush with the ground, the closed 
ends depressed a few inches. I demurred to this 
arrangement fearing the effect of the east wind, 
but was silenced when Nick replied, — 

" Aye, mon, doost tha not know th' soon cooms 
oop i' th' east ? An 't is th' soon thot makes cheeks 
grow." 

This seemed truly plausible and I subsided. 



62 FARMING IT 

And now for a while the affairs of the partner- 
ship flourished. The chickens throve, Nick 
throve, and the venture seemed in a fair way to be 
remunerative in the extreme. To be sure we lost 
a few chicks by the incursions of an immense 
gray rat, which Nick caught red-handed and 
stamped into a furry flapjack. Certain other 
animals in the neighborhood also disappeared, 
leaving no trace of their whereabouts. 

"Johnny say, it do beat 'ell wheer th' owd 
tomcat 'a' gone," said Nick one day ; " but 
'Enry," — and here Nick lowered his voice, 
glanced apprehensively around, and whispered 
hoarsely, "Nick could tell tha summat about it." 

Frequent visits of my partner at my house and 
office kept me posted in the progress of partner- 
ship affairs. These visits were at times a trifle 
inopportune, as when on one occasion we were 
entertaining the good pastor of the church at 
tea, Nick suddenly appeared at the dining- 
room door with the astonishing information that 
a "blawsted mink 'ad killed five cheeks, hand 
th' owd yeller 'en 'ad killed three, like a dash 
dashed owd fu'." 

On another occasion Nick bolted into my 
court in great excitement, and disturbed my 
judicial poise by loudly informing me that 
" Johnny 'ad fun' out aboot th' owd tomcat an' 
was a raisin' 'ell." 



MY OLD FRIEND NICK 63 

But on the whole fortune smiled on the partner- 
ship and the partners. Yet, alas, one night, when 
the chicks w^ere about as big as half-grown 
pigeons, a driving storm of wind and rain came. 
All night the wind roared from the east, the rain 
poured, the loose shutters banged, and my 
thoughts wandered to the partnership assets. 

The morning dawned bright and beautiful, 
and at five o'clock I came downstairs. On open- 
ing the side door I nearly fell over the convulsed 
frame of my small partner, sitting doubled up 
on the threshold, plunged in unavailing grief. 

"What in the world is the matter, Nick.?" I 
asked. 

"'Enry," gasped Nick, "Hi want ye to coom 
down to th' 'ouse, hand take he very blank-dashed 
cheekin to 'ell wi' ye. The business 'as gone to 
'ell!" And Nick lifted up his voice and fairly 
squalled in the extremity of his sorrow. 

Although bursting with laughter at his ridicu- 
lous appearance, I did my best to soothe him, and 
finally he became composed sufficiently to lead 
the way toward the scene of our financial col- 
lapse. 

Not a word of explanation would Nick give, 
only, "Tha'll see soon enow, 'Enry. Hi thot 
Hi was a gude 'en man, but tha knowst more nor 
Hi." 

Arrived at the farm a most ridiculous and as- 



64 FARMING IT 

tonishing sight met my gaze. Arranged in per- 
fect order in rows across the yard were about 
three hundred and fifty chickens, stiff, cold, and 
drenched, with their poor little legs sticking 
straight in air as if each had raised both hands 
to call public attention to its individual case. 
The rain had been driven by the east wind into 
the depressed barrels and had drowned nearly 
our entire colony. 

The sight of the orderly rows of deceased 
chicks, and of Nick's frightfully solemn face, 
was too much, and I sat down on a barrel and 
roared and roared until Nick began to be infected 
and a hideous smile crept over his funny old face. 

"Weel, 'Enry," he said finally, "'owtha canst 
laugh 't is more than Hi can do. Hi '11 'ave no 
mon lose money by me. So take th' rest o' 'em 
awa." 

It took me some time to convince him that as 
a square man he must not desert a partner in 
distress, or a sinking ship ; and before I left he 
had visibly cheered up and was busily engaged 
in burying the dead. 

No further calamity happened, and early in the 
fall I received my dividend in the shape of about 
twenty of the gauntest, long-leggedest chickens 
the world ever saw. When the flood had rushed 
in on them, they had weathered the storm on 
the principle of the survival of the fittest, which 



MY OLD FRIEND NICK 65 

in their cases meant the long-legged ones. But 
their constitutions had been so taxed by the long 
hours of immersion, that their bodies had not kept 
pace with the abnormal development of their 
shanks. 

Most of them were roosters, and whenever one 
would crow it would fall prostrate with the effort 
and lie there kicking until up-ended by some 
kindly hand. And they were compelled to sit 
down when they ate or drank in order to reach 
their food without falling headlong into the dish. 
And their voices, — such voices ! like nothing in 
the world so much as Nick's laugh. 

When I commented on their unusual develop- 
ment, Nick remarked with a humorous twinkle 
in his eye and a shrewd twist of his mouth, — 

"Ay, mon, tha shouldst na find fault wi' thot, 
th' art built graidely lang-leggit thaself." 

The partnership books, consisting of chalk 
memoranda on the inside of the harness-room 
door, were duly examined and found correct. 
What these twenty curiosities cost me I have never 
told. I never shall. Neither Nick nor I cared to 
discuss that part of it, but we made somewhat 
elaborate plans to try again the next year and 
to retrieve our shattered fortunes. 

Poor Nick! he died that winter of a sud- 
den attack of pneumonia. Before he died he 
asked for me ; but I was away, and did not know 



66 FARMING IT 

of his sickness and death until after the fu- 
neral. 

Poor old Nick ! A weazened, crooked, bandy- 
legged man. But you had a good, faithful heart 
that has, I trust, found 'Arry. 




CHAPTER VIII 

SETBACKS 

OLD and snow, however exhilarating 
and beautiful, cannot last forever; 
and it is well they cannot, for toward 
the end of February, when the sun 
begins to run higher and rise earlier, one feels 
a strange longing for a breath of the spring, for 
a smell of the moist earth. 

But March comes, frequently with deceptive 
mildness, when the streets run rivers of muddy 
water, the snow turns dull and dingy, the earth 
appears in sheltered, sunny places on the banking, 
the English sparrows fight and chatter and shriek 
in the naked trees, and in the evening the drip, 
drip, drip of water from the eaves lulls one to rest 
with dreams of spring. 

But in the morning what a change has taken 
place ! A bitter wind roars like a lion in the trees, 
the air seems full of needles, the sun shines 
brightly, but does not warm. Not a sparrow is in 
sight. Huddled behind blinds and shutters and 
whatever serves as a shelter from the searching 
wind, they puff themselves into balls of feathers, 
and wait for warmer weather. 



68 FARMING IT 

" Ac venti, velut agmine facto, 
Qua data porta ruunt et terras turbine perflant." 

Again a few days of mild and sunny forenoons 
and a chill creeping into the air in the afternoon, 
with thin needles of ice threading the little pools 
of water in the road, followed the next day by 
a heavy snow-storm which changes into rain and 
sleet. 

But one day, and I never forget that day, a 
clear liquid warble is heard in the air, a wander- 
ing disembodied voice, the first spring song of the 
bluebird. I am thrilled and look everywhere, 
but in vain. I hear the clear notes but cannot see 
the musician, until all at once he alights on a 
fence-post, or on the roof of a shed, and warbles 
his flute-like tones. 

And one warm Sunday a few days later I walk 
into the garden. The soil is drying a bit in the 
higher places, but is soft and muddy in the hol- 
lows. The sun shines warmly, a Sabbath stillness 
is over everything. The hens prate cheerfully, 
a cow tethered in the sun in front of a neighbor's 
barn lows comfortably, the shrill call of a robin 
is heard, and spring really seems here. 

The first duty of an experienced gardener is 
to make hotbeds and therein cultivate beets, 
turnips, cabbage, cauliflower, lettuce, tomatoes, 
and other vegetables. So I sent for some planks, 
sawed them the right lengths, and spent a part 



SETBACKS 69 

of several days and the whole of several even- 
ings in the furnace-room of the cellar, pounding 
and hammering the parts together and screwing 
on glass covers with hinges. 

I made three of these beds, and having ar- 
ranged suitable sites for them on the south side 
of the barn, secured Mike as chief motive-power, 
and started to hoist them out. Then it was that 
I found the cellar door was several inches too 
narrow to allow^ them to pass through, which- 
ever way I turned them. So I was forced to take 
them apart and reunite their component parts on 
the outside. This took so much time that it was 
not until two days later that I had them in place. 

I had been told that greenhouse or conserva- 
tory compost would make excellent growing soil, 
and so I imported a few loads at considerable ex- 
pense from a neighboring florist, procured seed, 
and sowed, as I was afterwards informed, enough 
seed to furnish a market-garden of an hundred 
acres. It was a most delightful pastime, and in 
an astonishingly short time the tiny garden- 
shoots of thousands of young plants were peeping 
above the soil. 

It was delightful to see how warm and com- 
fortable it was inside that frame. Indeed, it was 
necessary to raise the tops during the sunny days, 
to avoid burning the plants. And I could almost 
see them grow from hour to hour. 



70 FARMING IT 

For about ten days I guarded them as care- 
fully as one would tend a new-born babe, and 
was rewarded tenfold by the astonishing pro- 
gress the plants made. One warm sunshiny day 
I opened the windows about halfway. Toward 
night a warm, moist south wind began blowing, 
and before dark a fine, almost summer-like rain 
was falling, just the thing the plants needed. So 
I opened the covers wider, that the plants might 
get the benefit of the rain without the danger of a 
heavy drenching fall, which might wash them out 
of the ground. The next morning I found that 
the unexpected had happened. The wind had 
veered around to the northeast, it had become 
bitterly cold, a biting northeaster was blowing, 
and my plants were frozen stiff. 

It was a week before the ground thawed enough 
to plant more seeds ; but I persevered, and, in 
about ten days after planting, had a second crop 
growing finely. 

I had also improved my time and had engaged 
a farmer with a yoke of oxen to plough my land. 
I had considerable difficulty in getting a yoke 
of oxen, because that useful animal, the ox, was 
an exceedingly rare bird in our vicinity. But I 
always wanted my farm ploughed by oxen, and 
I persevered until I found a yoke. It was some- 
what more expensive than the quicker method 
of ploughing with horses, but I preferred oxen. 



SETBACKS 71 

And so, when they arrived, I persuaded the farmer 
to allow me to drive. 

How often had I admired the skill shown by 
the wielders of the goad in managing their un- 
wieldy charges. Some of those old-time farmers 
were exceedingly graceful in using the goad. 
How easily they would slide it across the shoulders 
of the near ox and prod the off ox into activity. 
So I fain would do ; and when, after setting the 
plough, the horny-handed yeoman grasped the 
handles and signaled me to go ahead, I poised 
the goad, made certain circular motions with it 
in the air, and in deference to time-honored but 
obsolete custom, vociferated, "Hubbuck thar, 
huggolden, hibboad, whoa, heish " ; and they 
settled into the yoke, and mellow sounds of rend- 
ing earth followed. 

This was delightful, and at the end of the fur- 
row I turned them under his instructions, and 
started again across the field. Now I noticed 
that the off ox was shirking and allowing his mate 
to do most of the pulling, and to bring him up 
even I slid the goad across the near ox's shoulder, 
leaned my weight on it, and jabbed him power- 
fully with the brad, at the same time letting 
out a hoarse "Haw!" that waked the echoes. 

I have never known a draught animal to re- 
spond so quickly to encouragement as did this one, 
for the moment he felt the brad he bellowed 



72 FARMING IT 

loudly, stiffened his tail, and broke into a lum- 
bering gallop, dragging his mate, the plough, and 
the ploughman in his wake. The plough, caught 
by the nose, turned over, the ploughman, cling- 
ing to the handles like a drowning man to a straw, 
shot into the air like a catapult, turning a com- 
plete somersault, while the oxen, racing across the 
fields, brought up one on each side of an oak tree, 
which stopped their mad flight. 

The yeoman showed more irritation over the 
affair than I thought its importance warranted, 
and said things that were calculated to pain one's 
finer feelings. Indeed, he absolutely refused to 
continue his engagement under any terms what- 
ever, and to my great regret departed without 
even saying good-by. And I had so wanted to 
learn to drive oxen ! And now I might never get 
another chance. It was too bad. 




SHOT INTO THE AIR LIKE A CATAPULT 




CHAPTER IX 

MORE SETBACKS 

URING all of this time my hotbeds 
had been thriving, and although my 
neighbors were busy planting their 
) gardens, I had done no more than lay 
out a good-sized vegetable garden, and have it 
horse-ploughed with the rest of the field. This 
I harrowed with Lady M. I knew that by trans- 
planting my artificially cultivated vegetables I 
would be far in advance of my neighbors in the 
growth of my garden, and so I was in no hurry 
to jeopardize my plants with another cold snap. 

I am not entirely correct when I say I had done 
no more than lay out a garden patch. I had no- 
ticed with much disgust and concern that the 
first green things that appeared were the hideous 
and unsightly burdocks, which require no cultiva- 
tion, and which, if not promptly checked, spread 
like the Asiatic cholera and kill out every other 
kind of vegetation. 

So I acted with great promptness and thorough- 
ness, and not only cut them down with a scythe, 
but spent the greater part of a sunny afternoon 
in carefully grubbing up each individual root, 



74 FARMING IT 

and burning the entire collection in a bonfire of 
kerosene-soaked refuse. 

I regarded this as the best day's work I had 
accomplished on the farm, until I found some 
days later that I had utterly eradicated what was 
probably the finest bed of pie-plant in the com- 
munity, and of all plants in the world, pie-plant 
was the one I most loved. 

I was quite cast down about this, and when 
this calamity was followed by a succession of 
trials and reverses in my farm labor, I felt almost 
disposed to close my house and take rooms at a 
hotel. First, I forgot again, so careful was I not 
unduly to expose the growing plants to the sud- 
den changes of our Northern climate, to raise the 
glass covers for the whole of an unusually warm 
and sunny day, and as the beds were practically 
air-tight, and the drawing power of the glass 
very effective, I was again dismayed to find the 
plants wilted and lifeless, but this time from ex- 
treme heat and dryness. 

Then, to add to my discomfort and discour- 
agement, a long cold rain set in, which was fol- 
lowed by chill overcast skies ; and when at last 
the sun condescended to shine, the witch-grass 
which the weather had stimulated to its utmost, 
while checking every other growth, had made such 
enormous increase, that the cultivation of my 
field had become an impossibility. 



MORE SETBACKS ' 75 

The thorough harrowing I had given the garden 
patch alone had saved it for further experiments. 
Well, I was disappointed, as I had looked for- 
ward to at least an acre and a half of corn, beans, 
and squashes. 

So I set to work in the garden, and planted 
sweet corn, lettuce, beets, cauliflower, carrots, 
pole-beans, and sowed nasturtiums the whole 
length of the yard, or about three hundred feet. 

The green things were showing in my neigh- 
bors' gardens, and I was far behind them, but I 
fondly hoped that by extra care and cultivation I 
might arrive first. But in order not to be entirely 
distanced, I went to town and bought at a grocery 
store several boxes of tomatoes and cabbage- 
plants, and set them out in regular order in the 
most conspicuous part of the garden. 

I also bought a couple of hundred strawberry- 
plants, cleared a patch of witch-grass by actually 
picking it out with a fine-toothed comb, and 
set them out in regular cadence. 

The field was now quite overgrown with witch- 
grass, and much to my astonishment a great va- 
riety of other weeds were shooting up. Evidently 
the dressing placed on the land the winter before 
had been filled with seeds. A casual examination 
of the specimens disclosed pigweed, ragweed, 
live - forever, chickweed, dandelion, purslane, 
nettle, plantain, skunk-cabbage, bulrush, as well 



76 FARMING IT 

as cucumber, pumpkin, squash, toadstool, mush- 
room, and mullein leaf. 

This worried me a good deal until my friend 
Daniel informed me that provided I mowed the 
growth before the seeds became ripe, I would 
get a noble crop of hay the second year. 

A few days after this, and in the first week of 
May, I noticed one morning that my tomato- 
plants had suddenly wilted. I pulled one up and 
examined the root for wire-worm, cut-worm or 
other subterranean varmint that might have 
preyed upon the damask of its cheek, but could 
find nothing. Then I bent to my work, and on 
my knees, examined them one by one with the 
utmost care ; and before I got half down the first 
row my search was rewarded by finding a striped 
bug, evidently the potato -bug of contempora- 
neous history. 

Certainly eternal vigilance is the price of a suc- 
cessful market-garden. I saddled Polly and flew 
down town, grossly violating the statutory reg- 
ulations in respect to the speed limit of eques- 
trians. 

I bought a little green package of Paris green, 
and, remounting, flew back even faster. I mixed 
up a pailful of the required consistency, and 
showered the poor limp plants. Then I dressed 
and went down town, anticipating a marked 
change in the appearance of things on my return. 



MORE SETBACKS 77 

True enough, when I did return I found that 
a change had taken place, but not just the change 
I had anticipated, for two of my hens had scaled 
their wire fence, imbibed freely of what was left 
of the contents of the pail, and now lay lifeless 
and with their clawfe sticking stiffly in the air as if 
imploring pity, while the plants w^ere more limp 
than before. I again sprinkled the plants, put the 
pail away in safety, buried the hens, and had 
lunch. 

That night there was no change in the flabbi- 
ness of the plants, but considerable discoloration 
was perceptible. The next morning they were 
so black that I almost gave up hope, but admin- 
istered another sprinkling and left them. 

At noon I again consulted my friend Daniel, 
who viewed the remains, asking some pointed 
questions, and then said: "Why, you blooming 
lunatic, did n't you know that we had a sharp 
frost yesterday morning ? Well, there was, and 
your tomato-plants were frost-killed. If you only 
got up in the morning as I do, you would n't 
have been spending the time and money in poison- 
ing potato-bugs when they ain't hatched yet, and 
won't be for two months." 




CHAPTER X 

GRAMP AND THE GAMECOCK 

NE thing that made farm-life addi- 
tionally interesting and pleasant was 
that my father had moved his family 
directly opposite my house; and as he 
took a hearty interest in farming, although I have 
reason to believe he knew but little more than I 
did about it, he took occasion to come over about 
every day to give me gratuitous advice. 

Now it is one of the peculiarities of that de- 
lightfully frank old gentleman to fail to recog- 
nize the fact that I have grown either in body or 
mind since the time I was about twelve years of 
age, and so he frequently criticises me severely, 
even going to the extent of fervent oratory when- 
ever my methods of managing my affairs do not 
coincide with his views, and whenever a very 
considerable amount of obstinacy that I have in- 
herited from this same choleric gentleman, impels 
me to have my own way. 

I do not find fault with his peculiarities in this 
regard. Indeed, I rather enjoy them and recog- 
nize them as a sort of paternal privilege. More 



GRAMP AND GAMECOCK 79 

than this, I know perfectly well from my ex- 
perience on one occasion (when I arrived breath- 
less and just in time forcibly to prevent an am- 
bitious attempt by him to thrash a man half his 
age, and fully his size, who had intimated casu- 
ally that my legal attainments were not quite up 
to the mark) that he would not tolerate any criti- 
cism of me from any one else. 

Now my respected father spent a good deal 
of his spare time in superintending operations on 
my farm, and in that respect was of great assist- 
ance to me. There was, however, one thing in 
which I was disposed to criticise his efficiency. 

Most of the unemployed help in our town spent 
a large percentage of their time in the House of 
Correction for drunkenness, and in the intervals 
betw^een sentences worked at odd jobs until they 
received pay enough to go on a convivial " bat," 
and when rounded up in the Police Court, took 
whatever sentence awaited them with cheerful 
acquiescence. 

Knowing this, I made it a rule never to pay 
laborers of this class until they had finished their 
work. Now, these men knew me from bitter ex- 
perience, and also knew my respected father for 
reasons of a contrary nature ; and so whenever 
they felt the desire for alcoholic stimulants 
coming over them, they found no difficulty in 
wheedling an advance "on account" from the 



80 FARMING IT 

old gentleman, upon their sworn statement that 
they wanted it for the necessaries of life; where- 
upon they, to the old gentleman's surprise, at 
once proceeded to exhilarate, and would fre- 
quently return in a most hideous state of inebria- 
tion, and endeavor to argue the matter with me 
until I would be obliged to have them removed 
by the police. And so the farming industry in our 
particular location would be brought to a stand- 
still. 

Again, father believed that the domestic fowl 
would yield more returns if allowed to range freely 
over my premises, at least until seed was sowed. 
I rather favored his point of view, and thought 
that a flock of neat fowls looked well on a lawn 
or about the buildings. 

But my wife took the opposite view, and 
showed a deplorable pride of opinion in the mat- 
ter, and the frequent spectacle of an agile woman 
in "specs" pursuing squawking fowls with a 
broom, added much to the joy of the neighbors. 

Now, I was bound to keep fowls, and my wife 
was bound they should not be kept on the lawn. 
She was unquestionably right in the matter, and 
so a compromise was entered into. The fowls 
were to be let out only at stated intervals, when 
they could be under the charge of the old gentle- 
man, who engaged to see that they did not tres- 
pass on the lawn or dooryard. 



GRAMP AND GAMECOCK 81 

This seemed a fair and equitable arrangement, 
and was entered into with much enthusiasm by 
the old gentleman, to whom sitting in the sun, 
smoking, and watching hired men and hens 
"scratch gravel" was a most congenial employ- 
ment. 

He was particularly pleased with the game- 
cock, and never tired of watching it and extolling 
its brilliant colors and its great courage. And 
when that valiant bird sent an inquisitive dog 
yelping from the premises, and chased the family 
cat, spitting and swearing, up a tree, he was out- 
spoken in his joy. 

It was his custom to let the pens of fowls out 
at different times, and in about an hour to lure 
them back to their quarters with handfuls of 
grain. In this way he had established consider- 
able familiarity with the fowls, which bred in the 
gamecock that contempt which is the usual re- 
sult of familiarity. 

One day in following his regular programme 
the old gentleman found the grain-bin almost 
entirely empty, so much so that he was obliged to 
immerse his head and shoulders in the bin and 
scrape around on the bottom with a grain mea- 
sure to get enough for the fowls. While this was 
happening the gamecock stepped around the 
corner of the barn-door in quest of adventure. 
Seeing this unusual object, he stopped to con- 



82 FARMING IT 

template it, and at the sight his wrath grew. 
Here was an unknown something that apparently 
needed a lesson. It was alive because it moved. 
That was enough. It defied him. He would in- 
vestigate it promptly. 

And investigation with a gamecock meant 
instant and vigorous action. The fighting bird 
spread its hackles, took a short run, launched 
itself in the air, and drove its sharp spurs home 
with all the power of its strong wings. The re- 
sult was equally astonishing to the gamecock 
and to his innocent and unsuspecting antagonist. 

With a yell that could have been heard half 
a mile, the old gentleman straightened up, 
bumping his head resoundingly against an over- 
hanging beam. With a vigorous cuss word he 
launched the grain measure at the gamecock, 
and followed this with a hammer that lamed an 
innocent pullet for life. 

When I returned from the office that night I 
heard his views of the transaction, and it is but 
justice to him to state that I never heard a more 
cogent or dramatic recapitulation of the affair. 
That night when all was dark I boxed the game- 
cock up and sent him away, where I trust he has 
become the founder of a long line of beautiful 
birds. But it was many days before the old 
gentleman resumed his seat on the bench. 




CHAPTER XI 

THE GRANGE 

NE evening in June, I was sitting on 
a bench contemplating the growth of 
the vegetable garden, the astonishing 
developments of the pigweed in the 
field, and the inferiority of our neighbor's crops, 
when I was approached by a friend from the 
country, the successful manager of a productive 
and extensive farm, and my prospective member- 
ship in the Grange was solicited. Perhaps I am 
in error to say that he requested me to apply for 
admission to the organization, for in fact he so 
managed the conversation that I was the actual 
suppliant. 

The Grange in our state is a most powerful and 
extensive organization, probably having as many 
members, as much enthusiasm, and fully as 
many enjoyable festivals as any other organiza- 
tion, and it is certainly a privilege to belong to 
it; and so, when it was casually intimated that 
my ownership of so extensive a farm as my two- 
acre patch appeared to be might qualify me for 
admission into that society, I was at once inter- 



84 FARMING IT 

ested. I was a little proud of my success as an 
amateur farmer, although I did not care much 
about estimating the cost of my garden and my 
other farm property. It was also suggested by 
this friend that the Grange exercised a most 
powerful political influence, and that any one 
desiring political preferment could do no better 
than to apply for admission. I replied that I had 
no political ambition whatever ; that I preferred 
to be a plain and unobtrusive farmer, and live a 
life as near to the soil as is compatible with the life 
of a country attorney. 

I was, however, prepared to follow any method 
to compass my ambition to become a member of 
the Grange, and when I asked what the requisites 
were for admission, I was informed that good 
character, and ability to pay dues and to perform 
manual labor in farm-work were the chief re- 
quisites. As I had never been detected in any 
offense that would subject me to the criminal 
laws of the state, and as my moral character was 
not sufficiently stained to endanger my prospects, 
I was informed by my friend that these two re- 
quisites would pass muster ; but that I must show 
by actual demonstration that I was able to do at 
least one day's farm- work, and my friend ad- 
mitted that he had some doubts on that subject. 

On professing my willingness to try to follow 
him in a day's work, he suggested that if I would 



THE GRANGE 85 

come to his house the next morning, prepared to 
begin work at his usual hour and work all day 
with him in the corn-field without "blenching 
from the helm," he would recommend my ad- 
mission, and after complimenting me on the ex- 
cellency of my garden patch, satirically remark- 
ing that we were "goin' t' hev a powerful crap 
er pigweed," he went his way. 

The next morning I was up at three o'clock, fed 
Polly, put on a suit of brown overalls with jersey, 
a pair of stout shoes, and an old felt hat. At half- 
past three I had fed and saddled that animal, and 
with hoe in hand prepared to mount. 

Now, Polly is an extremely nervous animal and 
somewhat aristocratic in her taste, and she 
strongly objected to being mounted by any one 
dressed as I was. She was also deeply apprehen- 
sive that I was intending to give her a " bat" with 
that hoe; consequently when I approached to 
mount her she backed away, wheeled, and despite 
m}^ utmost efforts, would not remain still long 
enough for me to get foot in the stirrup. Finally, 
after leaning the hoe up against a tree and back- 
ing her into a corner I managed to mount. I then 
approached the tree by devious ways, and not 
without great difficulty succeeded in getting near 
enough to grasp the hoe, when she bolted. 

Down Front Street she went like lightning, 
narrowly escaping shipwreck in rounding a cor- 



86 FARMING IT 

ner that so many years before had proved disas- 
trous to me when as a boy we raced the minister. 
As I went over Great Bridge, white-robed figures 
leaned from the windows, evidently thinking that 
either Paul Revere or the headless horseman was 
once more on the war-path. 

By the mile stretch on Hampton Road we 
swept like a simoom, when, as my flying steed was 
somewhat winded, I pulled her to half-speed and 
turned down the long hill leading to Kensington. 

Although the distance was about four miles 
from my house, I did the same in what I believe 
to be record time, and arrived astride my foaming 
charger and still clinging to the hoe which had 
been the chief cause of her mad flight. 

I aroused my farmer friend from his beauty 
sleep, much to his disgust, and after breakfast- 
ing with him went to the corn-field and there 
wrought manfully throughout the day. Although 
I had the advantage of my friend in many ways, 
he being a small man and fully twice my age, 
yet I was put to great straits to keep up with him, 
and when supper-time came was tremendously 
fagged. After supper, when I was contemplating a 
leisurely and pleasant ride home, a terrific thun- 
der-storm came up, and I dashed home in the al- 
ternating glare and blackness of a summer storm 
in somewhat less time than I went over. My load, 
however, was lighter, for I thought both hands 



THE GRANGE 87 

would be fully occupied in restraining my uncer- 
tain steed and preserving my balance. The next 
day I was in a condition of stiffness quite impos- 
sible to describe, but a few days later it wore off, 
and I was notified by my friend that my applica- 
tion for admission to the Grange had been favor- 
ably received and acted upon, and that I was to 
present myself for initiation at a certain date. I 
would be violating the secrecy enjoined on me by 
the rules of the organization to say anything about 
the initiation. It is sufficient to say that I passed 
it and lived. 

I felt greatly honored a short time afterwards, 
and after attending one or two meetings, at being 
notified to deliver an address before the meeting 
of the Pomona Grange, which was to be held in 
our town in about a week after my invitation to 
speak. To say that I jumped at the chance would 
be expressing it feebly. Invitations to speak in 
public were quite rare in my life, and the only 
speeches that I had made were arguments before 
juries, judges, or referees, in matters pertaining 
to my profession, and these, I might say in pass- 
ing, were not sufficiently numerous to mark me 
among successful advocates; and so for a week 
I neglected my family, my farm, and my office, 
while composing an address of marked excellence, 
and calculated to make my position as a member 
of the Grange solid. 



88 FARMING IT 

The exercises were to be held in a large hall 
at two o'clock in the afternoon, and the oration 
and collation were to be preceded by a business 
meeting. Shortly after two o'clock I arrived at the 
hall, attempted to enter, and finding the door 
fastened, announced my presence by a sounding 
knock. In reply I heard some one from within 
informing those present that an alarm was made 
at the outer court, or words to that effect. 

I imagined that orders were given from within 
by those in authority to ascertain the reasons for 
the alarm, and to be prepared to repel any un- 
authorized ruffian who might attempt to enter 
the sacred precincts of the Grange Hall. I felt 
assured that such was the case when the door 
opened and the largest man I had ever beheld 
appeared on the threshold and hoarsely inquired 
what my purpose was. 

I shrank perceptibly before this dignified and 
powerful individual, and informed him with 
much humility that I wanted to come in. He in 
return demanded the pass-word, and in my con- 
fusion I was utterly unable to give it. I informed 
him timidly that I had forgotten the pass-word, 
but if he would kindly furnish me with one I 
would immediately return it. 

In reply he laid his hand in a wholly fraternal 
manner upon my shoulder, called me brother, 
opened the door, and to my great confusion, 



THE GRANGE 89 

marched me the length of the hall, between rows 
of staring men and curious women, to the plat- 
form, where I was confronted by a small but 
imposing gentleman who sat at a desk, clad in 
the oflficial regalia of the Order and surrounded 
by other officials of equal gorgeousness, where- 
upon the large gentleman made the following ad- 
dress: "Most Worshipful" something or other, 
I have forgotten what, " I present to your official 
notice this young man, whom I have cause to be- 
lieve and do believe is a worthy member of this 
most worthy organization, but who, unfortu- 
nately, has been so unmindful of his duty as not 
to have furnished himself with the requisites for 
admission, or, in other words, does not know the 
pass-word. What are your distinguished wishes 
in relation to the case?" 

"Most Worthy" something or other, it would 
be a violation of the rules of the Order to say just 
what, "you may remove the alleged worthy 
member to the waiting-room, and inform him, 
should he adduce sufficient proof to you of his 
membership in this order, of the pass-word, 
that when the necessary and important business 
of this meeting is finished he will then be re- 
admitted." 

During this exchange of weighty civilities I 
had been growing hot and cold by turns, as I was 
naturally of a modest disposition and was greatly 



90 FARMING IT 

embarrassed at my undue prominence and by the 
curious and amused glances of several hundred 
" fair women and brave men" ; and so when I was 
conducted stumblingly to the ante-room, and was 
about to be subjected to a searching inquiry, I 
excused myself for a moment, and struck out 
for home ; and, as far as I know, that organiza- 
tion is still awaiting my return and the delivery 
of that famous speech. 




CHAPTER XII 

TURKEYS AND A FOOTRACE 

ID you ever think that one of the main 
reasons of the difficulty our farmers 
have of realizing more than a moder- 
ate competency from the cultivation 
of a New England farm is the want of a good 
market ? 

The cities and large towns are few in number 
and so small, and the Boston markets for farm 
products of the perishable kinds are supplied by 
the larger, nearer, and more fertile farms and 
market gardens of suburban towns. 

But for hardy perennials, such as chickens, 
ducks, lambs, goats, calves, and woodchucks, 
there is, and ever has been, a fairly good market, 
and much money has been made in the cultiva- 
tion of such products. 

Thirty or forty years ago, and as far prior 
thereto as the memory of man runneth, even to the 
time the first white man landed in America and 
on the solar plexus of the amber- hued aborigine, 
the sound of the turkey was heard in the land and 
vied with the song of the birds, the nasal tones 



92 FARMING IT 

of the lusty husbandman berating his sluggish 
cattle, the bleating of sheep, the lowing of cattle, 
and the grunting and squealing of fat pigs, all of 
which went to make up a pastoral symphony or 
bucolic tout ensemble. Daily the flock of bronze 
beauties descended to the fields and woods, where 
they industriously put in from twelve to fourteen 
working hours in hunting down grasshoppers, 
katydids, crickets, and other vermin, and nightly 
did they festoon the apple trees, the roofs of sheds 
and barns, and the seats of farm-wagons with 
their plump bodies. 

In those days the raising and marketing of 
turkeys formed one of the principal sources of 
income for the farmer or the farmer's helpmeet. 
They were raised in two ways. The most profit- 
able method was to enter your neighbor's orchard 
when the family were asleep, and carefully and 
without noise raise the drowsy turkeys from their 
roosting places, and market them in a distant 
county before morning broke. 

The element of chance that entered into the 
transaction and occasionally involved those in- 
terested in this industry in expensive legal pro- 
ceedings rendered this method slightly unpopu- 
lar, although the percentage of profit was very 
considerable. 

The other and more popular method was to al- 
low the woman of the household to take entire 



TURKEYS 93 

charge of the flock, and to hold the proceeds for 
her personal use and adornment. 

To this circumstance the beautiful sables that 
have been handed down in country families owe 
their origin. Our grandmothers, great- and great- 
great-grandmothers developed great fleetness of 
foot in avoiding the lightning charge of irate 
cock-turkeys weighing forty or more pounds, 
and a wide range of geographical knowledge in 
seeking and housing the immature flocks when 
a rain-cloud appeared on the horizon. 

Indeed, many of our long-distance pedestrians 
and short-distance sprinters of to-day have come 
to their full powers by a careful cultivation of a 
direct inheritance from athletic great-great -grand- 
mothers. But of late years turkey-raising as a 
local industry has not flourished, and the New 
Hampshire turkey is almost extinct. 

What is the reason ? One has it that the in- 
creasing liberality of the modern farmer hus- 
band is such that his wife obtains her heart's de- 
sire simply for the asking, and is not obliged to 
raise live-stock for a living. Another, that mar- 
riages between the different sexes in the turkey 
family have been allowed within those degrees 
of consanguinity that in the human species are 
prohibited by law, and the result has been the 
production of a race of turkey degenerates pre- 
disposed to paresis, suicide, and kindred ills. 



94 FARMING IT 

Still another says that an insect known as the 
borer, equipped with a cast-iron, auger-like pro- 
boscis, working on a swivel, bores holes in the 
bird's crop and lets its contents exude with the 
innocent life of the victim. 

This man affirms that another insect bores into 
the ears of the young bird and drives it to suicide. 
One says it is over-feeding, another starvation. 
One advises leaving the birds to nature, another, 
highly artificial measures. It reminds me of the 
old definition of climate as given by our old 
friend Guyot's "Common School Geography." 

"Climate is heat and cold, moisture and dry- 
ness, healthfulness or unheal thfulness." I well 
remember my childish wonder that one term 
could embrace so many contrary characteristics. 

In thinking matters over, I finally became con- 
vinced that the opportunity had arrived to make 
my name, like that of our national emblem, 
"Known and honored throughout the world." 
To invent, discover, and develop, to patent or 
copyright a process for preserving the life of the 
New Hampshire turkey, was to put it into the 
power of every farmer to remove the mortgage 
from his ancestral acres, to put money in his 
purse, to give his daughters lessons in elocution, 
and to allow his wife to join the "Daughters," 
and to live happy ever afterwards. Perhaps as 
"Shute, the turkey man," my name might go 



TURKEYS 95 

pin wheeling through the ages to come, neck and 
neck with the names of Buffalo Jones, Scroggs 
the Wyandotte man, the inventor of Mennen's 
Toilet Powder, and kindred celebrities. 

So I invested in a pair of mammoth bronzes 
that were displayed in a window of a Boston 
store, and awaited their arrival with ill-concealed 
anxiety. 

For three nights subsequent to the purchase 
of the birds I drove to the station with a huge 
crate, which I had fastened to the pung so firmly 
that it prevented me from using the sleigh for 
any other purpose, and for three nights I re- 
turned disappointed. On the fourth night I found 
them waiting in a crate fully as large, upon which 
freight-bills were due sufficient to freight a horse 
to the Pacific slope. This, with the amount al- 
ready paid for the birds, made my original in- 
vestment somewhat disquieting. However, I 
loaded the new crate on the old one, tied it as 
well as I could with the hitch - rope, climbed 
stiffly to the seat, and started for home. 

Respected reader, did you ever try to drive a 
hard-bitted horse with one hand and hold in two 
crates weighing about a ton each, and laden with 
shifting ballast in the shape of agile and wildly 
terrified turkeys ? It is a trick, let me tell you. I 
covered the distance between the station and my 
house in several seconds less than the record, and 



96 FARMING IT 

pulled both arms a foot or more beyond their 
normal reach while so doing. 

I was so anxious to release my turkeys that I 
neglected to unhook the mare, and when after 
considerable difficulty I dragged forth the cock- tur- 
key by one hind-leg, he beat my hat over my ears 
with his huge wings, covered me with dust and 
dirt, and so frightened the mare that she went 
through the narrow door like a flash of lightning, 
leaving a pung with broken shafts and a goodly 
part of the harness on the outside. 

I was too much occupied with the turkey to pay 
much attention to the mare, and after a brief sea- 
son of collar-and-elbow,Gr8eco-Roman, hitch-and- 
trip, and catch-as-catch-can, I dragged the un- 
willing old bird from his retirement, left him in 
the loft, swelling and spreading, and dashed down 
after the hen, suddenly reflecting that I had left 
the crate open. 

I found her standing in the open, with out- 
stretched neck and tail half-spread. Awed by 
my commanding appearance, or possibly by the 
fact that I had so many feathers on me that she 
mistook me for a strange turkey-cock of disre- 
putable appearance, she started off at a high rate 
of speed and I followed at a hand-gallop. The 
going was heavy and I soon overtook her, fell 
over her prostrate body, half-buried in the snow, 
and arose with her clasped to my bosom. 



TURKEYS 97 

Before I could catch her by the legs she, with 
ill-directed but vigorous clawings, gouged a long 
strip from my countenance, leaving an unsightly 
scar that remained for several weeks, and gave 
rise to the rumor that my home life was unhappy. 

She was not nearly as handsome or as heavy 
as her mate, but that she was dear to him he 
demonstrated by furiously attacking me when I 
appeared in the loft, and tearing a large hole in 
my trousers, in return for which I kicked him 
several yards with some considerable deftness, 
and left him to smooth his ruffled plumage and 
temper, while I sought warm water, Pears' soap, 
court-plaster, and a clothes-brush. 

As it was early in March, w^hen cock-turkeys 
are about as savage as four-year-old Jersey bulls, 
I warned the different members of our family to 
give him the right of way. 

I soon found that he was at heart a most pusil- 
lanimous poltroon, for a small gamecock that 
roosted in the loft, so far from being terrified 
by his appearance and loud boasts, thoroughly 
whipped him, and drove him headlong down one 
of the grain chutes, whence we rescued him by 
tearing away the planks, empurpled and nearly 
dead from a rush of blood to the head. 

Although an arrant coward, he put up such a 
menacing front, boasted so loudly, and turned so 
red-faced in his anger that he impressed the 



98 FARMING IT 

members of my family, the neighbors, and the 
populace generally, as a very dangerous antago- 
nist. 

My daughter, like her father extraordinarily 
gifted in the way of legs, had no difficulty in 
distancing the old fellow, and dodging his fierce 
rushes, and the daily sight of a very funny young 
lady with spindly legs flying across the yard pur- 
sued by a red-faced, gobbling turkey, added much 
to the interest with which the neighborhood 
viewed him. 

My wife, however, had no patience with the 
young lady or any one else who was afraid of 
an old turkey, and expressed great confidence 
that the day old Tom came at her would be a very 
sad day for the poor old fellow. This naturally 
made me look forward to the inevitable meeting 
between the mistress of the house and the master 
of the yard as a prospective treat. 

One day I was in the barn and saw the usual 
stern chase swinging its way across the yard. 
Scarcely had the house-door slammed before it 
opened again, and there strode forth, with firm 
step and resolute manner, the lady of the house 
with the light of high purpose and the glint 
of warlike determination beaming through her 
specs. The old cock had retired some distance 
from the house, but drew up as the apparition 
approached. 



TURKEYS 99 

As the meeting promised to be of some interest, 
I peeped through a window and prepared to get 
as much enjoyment out of the engagement as the 
nature of the circumstances would allow. 

Straight toward old Tom came the lady with 
rapid and measured strides. Instantly he hoisted 
his tail, injected about a quart of scarlet war- 
paint into his head and neck, stuck every feather 
on end, and let out a fierce rolling gobble. The 
walk slowed down a bit, and the lady cut her smile 
of confidence down one half, but still advanced 
warily. 

The gobbler then made a whining imitation 
of a watchman's rattle, laid the feathers of his 
neck flat until his head looked snaky, and took 
a few side steps toward his visitor. 

"Shoo, you nasty thing! Shoo!! scat!!! go 
away ! ! ! !" screamed the lady, stopping abruptly. 

Old Tom whined like a dog, ending with a sort 
of bass croak that seemed to come from the pit 
of his stomach, then took a few more steps for- 
ward on tiptoe, and sounded the watchman's 
rattle, winding up with a fierce gobble. 

"Go away, you nasty thing! Shoo!! scat!!!" 
shrieked the lady. "Oh, why don't somebody 
come.'^ Oh-ee ! ! Oh-ee ! ! Get away ! !" she shrieked 
vigorously, and somewhat improperly shaking 
her skirts, with marked scenic effect. 

This was the chip on the shoulder, the chal- 



100 FARMING IT 

lenge that an adult male turkey always takes 
up. With outstretched neck and hideous whine 
he charged, and with shrill shrieks the lady fled 
for the friendly shelter of the open portal. I have 
ridden on the "Flying Yankee^" I have flashed 
down the toboggan slide, have shot or ** shooted" 
the chutes, have twice been run away with when 
astride a bronco, have seen the fastest sprinter 
breast the tape in an even ten, have seen the two- 
minute pacer coming down the stretch abreast the 
thoroughbred runners, but never have I seen 
such a burst of speed as my wife put on that day. 
She fairly whizzed across the yard and disap- 
peared into the house like a flash of jagged 
lightning, and the bang with which she slammed 
the door, echoed and reechoed and drowned my 
coarse and unfeeling laughter and the delighted 
giggle of my irreverent daughter, who from a 
convenient window had viewed the proceedings 
with great enjoyment. Truly this turkey busi- 
ness was not a bad investment after all. 

As spring approached, my turkey began to lay 
large pock-marked eggs with exceedingly rough 
shells, which I carefully secured and concealed 
from the prying eyes of the cook. 

As soon as I had a suflicient number, I set 
them under two large fluffy hens and sternly re- 
pressed the maternal instinct of the turkey-hen, 
daily removing her forcibly, protestingly, flap- 



TURKEYS 101 

pingly from her nest under a pile of brush, where 
she persistently sat on a couple of bricks. In due 
time the eggs under the hens hatched and the 
bricks under the turkey refused to hatch, but the 
enthusiasm of the old turkey-hen continued un- 
abated. She seemed determined to hatch out terra 
cotta images, drain- tile, or something. 

The little turks or poults were delightful little 
wild things, beautifully mottled, and on them I 
lavished the affection of a warm and ardent na- 
ture. On one of them, as an experiment, I lavished 
something even more ardent, for under the ad- 
vice of a Granger friend I introduced a pepper- 
corn into the epiglottis of an infant turk and 
watched the effect. It was instantaneous. The 
poor bird piped a shrill protest, turned flip-flaps, 
hand-springs, and cart-wheels, opened its beak, 
clawed at it with frenzied feet, rolled, ran, fell, 
and finally collapsed into a piteous little ball of 
down and died. 

This experiment, at least, was not a success, 
except as an exterminator, and I had but fifteen 
poults instead of the original sixteen. I then put 
them in a well-sheltered place and fed them ac- 
cording to the best standards. 

For a while all went well. They grew and 
throve, and I became very complacent over the 
matter. Too much so, I am afraid, for on my 
return from the oflSce one day I found three of 



102 FARMING IT 

them suffering from melancholia, with heads sunk 
on their breasts, and apparently indifferent to 
their surroundings. I at once powdered them 
thoroughly with insect powder, under which dras- 
tic treatment they promptly died without struggle 
or squeak. 

A week later, four more passed peacefully away 
without apparent reason, and a week later cholera 
attacked the remainder. One by one they passed 
to the great hereafter. We found them in all 
places, in all positions. Some on their backs, 
with their feeble little claws outstretched in air, 
some huddled into corners, with heads drawn 
back over their shoulders, some curled up like 
balls of fur. 

In vain I tried all the remedies in the poultry 
papers and in books. In vain I consulted wise 
sages and oracles in poultry-culture. It was use- 
less ; those turks were doomed from the moment 
of their entrance into a sinful world. In a month 
from their arrival nothing remained but bitter 
memories and a very inconsiderable addition to 
my compost-heap. 

In the meantime the old cock, having much 
unoccupied time on his hands, and pining for the 
society of his wife, who was still sitting on the 
bricks under the brush-heap, was occupied in 
chasing defenseless women from the premises. 
Scarcely a day passed without a sally and a rescue. 



TURKEYS 103 

In his blundering, well-meaning way he was 
doing a deal of good. The female book agent and 
subscription fairy fled from my premises as from 
a place accursed. The dark-complexioned lady 
of Armenian extraction, with big feet and still 
bigger suit-case, crowded to the brim with gaudy 
and useless wares, was driven from the premises 
instanter. The saturnine villain with parti-col- 
ored rugs had to fly for his life. The small 
boys, who had worn a path through my lawn 
to the campus, were forced to pass through a 
neighbor's garden, and the D'Indy Club, the 
Frauenverein, the Mothers' Club, the committee 
on church affairs, met elsewhere. 

Really, I was quite ready to repeat my experi- 
ment should anything happen to my old friend, 
and stood ready to advocate the cock-turkey as 
the watch-dog of the household. 

One day, as I was passing the brush-heap, I 
bethought myself of taking a look at the turkey- 
hen. So I pulled her hissing from her nest, and 
to my surprise found that the bricks had been 
pushed from the nest, and in their place were 
eight eggs. With a thrill at my heart that re- 
minded me of my boyish days of birds'-egging, 
I replaced her carefully and took heart again. 

Perhaps I had made a mistake after all. Per- 
haps the books were wrong. I remembered to 
have heard a story once of an Irish common 



104 FARMING IT 

councilman, who in a somewhat acrimonious de- 
bate as to how many gondolas should be bought 
for the pond in a public park, sturdily advocated 
the purchase of a male gondola and a female gon- 
dola, "an' t' lave th' rist t' nature," as a measure 
calculated to minimize expense. 

Would it not be better to discontinue the arti- 
ficial methods and "lave th' rist t' nature" ? I 
would try. It could n't be any worse. I could n't 
lose any more than the whole brood. Could n't 
I ? Wait a bit. 

In due time every egg hatched, and the mother 
turkey cautiously crept out, suspicious of every 
sound, watchful of every movement. That night 
they disappeared in a grove back of my lot. 

The next morning I arose betimes, or a full hour 
and a half before betimes, and stole into the silent 
wood. Joy ! at the foot of a huge pine I found her 
and her tiny babies, safe, sound, and dry, although 
a smart shower had left everything dripping. 

It was a success. She alone had the secret of 
nature. Away with artificial methods. Return to 
nature. Strange how besotted man gets in his 
ignorance. But for blind adherence to experi- 
ment, the New Hampshire turkey 

"Might have stood against the world. 
Now none so poor to do him reverence.'* 

Wait a bit: that night at dusk I stole again 



TURKEYS 105 

into the forest, and to the foot of that mighty 
pine. She was not there, neither were her chicks. 

The mother love, suspicious, primeval, alert, 
had prompted her to find a new hiding-place. 
I would pit my wits against hers. Not to inter- 
fere with nature, but to keep her in sight, to study 
her cunning, to learn her secret. 

I hunted so long that night that on my return 
in the darkness I bumped into trees and stubs, — 

"I scratched my hands, and tore my hair. 
But still did not complain." 

The next morning at daybreak, and the next 
night at dusk, and for many, many weary days and 
nights, I searched, and peered, and sneaked, and 
spied, and climbed trees, and skinned and barked 
and abraded myself in various tender places. 

*' Donati lived, and long you might have seen 
An old man wandering as in search of something. 
Something he could not find, he knew not what." 

In vain my search. I never saw her again, nor 
did I ever see her chicks, and to this day their 
disappearance is a mystery. 

It seemed to me that the old cock sympathized 
with my grief. At least he did not seem the same 
turkey, and he began to follow me around. It 
may have been that he was considering the ad- 
visability of giving me a poke with his iron beak. 
But if so, he never did. 



106 FARMING IT 

Time passed. The haying season arrived, 
waxed, and waned. Green corn, astrachan apples, 
Sanford's Jamaica Ginger, and allopathic phy- 
sicians battled for the lives of our dear ones; 
Colorado beetles cut my potato-tops to the ground, 
rose-bugs in flying swarms devastated my " jacks." 
In short, from morning to night the whole house- 
hold was engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle to 
rescue our feeble crops from their many enemies. 
Constant occupation is good for grief and dis- 
appointment. 

In due time my cheerfulness returned. Old 
Tom conceived a violent passion for a diminu- 
tive bantam hen, and the memory of his erring 
or unfortunate mate faded. 

September came with its early crops, but I had 
no crops. October with its later harvests, but I 
gathered none. November merged into Decem- 
ber; December into January. Old Tom began 
with the lengthening days to develop a savage 
temper. An early February storm had made 
ponds of our garden, and sharp weather had 
converted it into a fine rink, where my daughter 
spent her leisure hours. 

Shortly after the noon hour I was in my room, 
disrobed. I had just finished caring for my stable 
animals. Suddenly a series of loud screams star- 
tled me. I rushed to the window, pulled up the 
shade, and looked. Penned into a corner cowered 



A FOOTRACE 107 

my small daughter, while before her, scarlet of 
neck, swollen of wattles, with every feather on 
end, towered old Tom, furious and menacing. 

From the side porch the housemaid screamed 
hysterical advice, and jumped up and down in 
her excitement. 

I grabbed my trousers. They were wrong- side- 
out, and I got stuck in them, and fell to the floor. 
Gentle reader, did you ever try to pull on your 
trousers while the house was burning, and when 
the salvation of yourself or your loved ones de- 
pended upon speed .^ Try it some time and see 
how adroit you are. I threw them across the 
room, got on one shoe, and was groping under 
the bed for the other, when another cry of terror 
electrified me, and I dashed for the stairs. 

"For heaven's sake, are n't you going to put on 
some clothes.^" screamed my wife; "the girl is 
out there." 

" Damn the girl !" I snapped ; " if she can stand 
there and see that gobbler scare Nath. to death, I 
guess it won't hurt her to see me." And I shot 
dow^n the stairs like an Andover quarterback 
going through a hole in the Exeter line. 

**The uniform 'e wore 
Was nothin' much afore 
An' rather less than 'alf o' that be'ind." 

I grasped a broom as I flew through the kitchen. 



108 FARMING IT 

turned the corner of the shed on one wheel, and 
dashed into the open with a whoop. At the un- 
expected appearance of so skinny a spectre clad 
in pale mauve underwear, stretched to its ut- 
most tension by frantic straddles, the housemaid 
shrieked and threw her apron over her head, but 
I kept on. Arrived in time, I swung with all my 
strength on the gobbler's scarlet neck, but missed, 
and turning several times with the momentum, 
fell and rolled on the ice. 

I fairly bounced to my feet and dashed after the 
flying bird. Down the field we went, round the 
apple trees, the gobbler in the lead, just out of 
reach. Through the rose-bushes, which tore 
ravel ings from my underwear and cuticle from 
my straining legs; round by the shed the chase 
continued, over the wood-pile, which turned and 
rolled on me, giving the gobbler a fresh start. 

But I picked myself up. I did not feel my 
bruises. Eliza crossing the ice was not more 
oblivious of her cut and naked feet. I was going 
to catch that gobbler if I broke something. No 
red-headed devil bird should menace the life of 
the child of my old age ; and again I picked up my 
agile heels and flew. This time the wily old bird 
took me over a hard-frozen corn-field with stubs, 
but failed to shake me off. 

Neighbors threw up the windows and stared. 
People in passing teams stopped and cheered us 




DASHED INTO THE OPEN 



I 



A FOOTRACE 109 

on. The bird ran with drooping wings. He was 
about all in. So was I. Suddenly he stopped and 
squatted. I tried to stop, but could not, and fell 
with soul-shaking violence. 

When I sat up, the gobbler had crawled into 
the barn, and with the assistance of my wife and 
daughter, who draped me in a table-cloth, I re- 
turned to my room, regained my breath gradually, 
and resumed my clothing. 

Does any one wish to buy an adult male tur- 
key ? Weighs thirty pounds ; is a direct descend- 
ant of the first turkey seen by the Pilgrim Fa- 
thers when they moored their bark on the wild 
New England shore. It may be the original 
turkey. I can't say. Turkeys are not in general 
valuable on account of their antiquity, but a 
genuine Stradivarius turkey, with Sheraton legs, 
Hepplewhite upholstery, and Chippendale var- 
nish, of undoubted antiquity and undisputed an- 
cestry, ought to bring a good price. At any rate, 
the turkey industry on the D. F. Ranch is hereby 
discontinued. 



CHAPTER XIII 

A NIGHT CALL 




LL day long the June sun had beaten 
down with fierce July heat upon the 
sleepy town, upon the smooth green 
lawns, the white, pink, and yellow 
roses at the corners of houses, upon the bright 
green blades of growing corn in the gardens, the 
feathery foliage of the carrots, the waxy richness 
of the beets, the bright and smiling faces of the 
pansies, the smooth expanse of the nasturtium, 
with its crimson and yellow flashes from between 
the green leaves, and the fragile pinkness of the 
fragrant sweet peas. 

Under the revolving sprinklers of the lawns, 
dapper robins had fluttered with wings upturned 
to catch the splashing drops, or stood upright with 
close-furled plumage. In the short white clover, 
which always follows a sprinkle of wood ashes, 
hundreds of bees had worked, unmindful of the 
fierce sun. 

As darkness slowly steals over the landscape, 
the robins, silent during the furnace-heat of the 
day, begin the clear warble of their evening song. 



A NIGHT CALL 111 

In the grove behind the house the wood thrush 
chants his song that speaks of twilight shades 
in the darkening woods, while down in the dim 
orchard a whip-poor-will repeats again and again 
his odd three-syllabled cry, and from far above 
in the dim blue his prototype, the night hawk, 
drones his nasal whine, with rapid upbeat of his 
wings, and now and then plunges downward like 
a gray bolt, only to check his earthward rush with 
suddenly outstretched wings, through which the 
wind roars like distant thunder. 

As the darkness deepens, the fireflies twinkle fit- 
fully in the meadows, bats begin their erratic flight, 
and the droning buzz of the beetle is heard. The 
stars appear, but there is no moon, and the glare 
of electrics mar the soft darkness of the night. 

The white figures of strolling couples pass to 
and fro, and the faint conversation of groups 
of people gathered on the piazzas and enjoying 
the delicious coolness of the evening, blends with 
the voices of Nature and night. One by one the 
lights in the houses disappear, the hum of con- 
versation ceases, and the little town sleeps. 

At midnight we are awakened by the insistent 
ringing of the telephone bell. 

"Confound the telephone! Why can't people 
let it rest nights ? There, I guess they have given 
it up now. No, there it goes again, 1-5, 1-5, 1-5 ; 
some one is in trouble," 



112 FARMING IT 

So finally, with much grumbling, I turn out, 
and stumble downstairs in the dark to the re- 
ceiver„ 

"Hello! Hello!! what is it?" 

"Yes?" 

"Is it so important as that?" 

"I will, of course." 

" Let me repeat. Take the north road straight 
through to the village, first right, four corners, 
fourth house on right, big barn, about eight miles. 
All right." 

" Hello ! Yes, can do it in about an hour. Yes, 
will bring a w itness. Is there one at the house ? 
All right." 

Some one is dying; a will must be made at 
once. It is too late for the little girl. Dick must 
go. So out to his room I go, dressing hurriedly. 
Dick grumbles ; I don't blame him, for he came 
in late; but he becomes better-natured as he 
shakes the sleep from his eyes. 

Downstairs w^e hurry. I run my head against 
the edge of a door, curse under my breath, fall 
over a chair, curse again right out loud, finally 
find and light a lantern. Polly lurches to her feet 
as I try the hasp of the barn-door. In the six years 
I have had her I have never seen her down. 

I harness her hurriedly. This time I will drive, 
not ride ; I can make better time, and my errand 
is urgent. Dick comes out with a bag of papers. 



A NIGHT CALL 113 

which I keep ready for such calls. We hastily 
don light overcoats, for the night air is cool and 
damp, and with a lift of the reins we whirl round 
the corner and plunge into the blackness of the 
summer night. 

Above we can see the stars and the faint light 
of the Milky Way. On either side the opaque 
blackness of the forest trees shuts out all light. 
There has been a shower in the early night, and 
the earth reeks with dampness and sweet and 
pungent smells. 

From above comes the faint cheep of a passing 
night-bird. A sudden drone as a night beetle 
blindly blunders past makes one dodge instinc- 
tively. From the wet trees and damp places the 
trills of the tree-frogs and the peculiarly sleepy 
cry of the toads, a soft croak with a falling in- 
flection, remind one of returning in a boat from 
an evening swim on a hot night in July. 

The night is full of faint and drowsy noises, 
vague smells, eerie thoughts. But for the rapid 
clop, clop, clop of Polly's feet, the whirring of 
the wheels and the creak of the whiffle- tree, 
which needs oil, we might think ourselves in elf- 
land. We can almost hear "the horns of Elfland 
faintly blowing." But Polly is practical and 
knows her business. She is troubled with no 
fancies. Clop, clop, clop, she goes, with her ears 
pointing forward in the darkness. 



114 FARMING IT 

A sudden chilly dampness shows we are ap- 
proaching the river. We can almost see the mist 
as it settles on our faces. Then we have thun- 
derously passed the bridge and ascended a rise, 
where it is warmer and where a sudden breeze 
showers us with big drops. Then down a rocky 
rattling slope we go, between dense pines. We 
cannot see them, but the sudden blackness 
shows they are there, standing shoulder to shoul- 
der, for warmth and shelter in winter, for cool- 
ness and shade in summer. 

And now we are approaching the village. In a 
house a light shines out of a watcher's room, a 
sick-room possibly, but in the darkness it seems 
cheerful and bright. Let us hope it is a late stu- 
dent, a clergyman writing his sermon for the next 
Sunday, a reader finishing an absorbing story. 
So bright a light could not come from a sick- 
room. Who could be sick on a June night .^ I 
forget, for we are going to a sick-room. I pull 
Polly up for a breathing-space. She has come 
five miles in about twenty-five minutes. 

We are in the village now and can see the 
faint outlines of houses. A dog rushes out bark- 
ing savagely, one of those unreasonably fierce 
shaggy animals that are the pest of drivers, 
and especially of physicians and night travelers. 
Polly darts ahead, there is a thump, a yelp, then 
the off front wheel strikes a soft something and 



A NIGHT CALL 115 

the wagon heels over dangerously amid a chorus 
of ear-splitting howls and pattering feet, as the 
shaggy devil bolts for home. We grin cheer- 
fully, for the dog has learned a lesson. 

We pass through the village at a racing gait, 
and are at the turn in the road where we pull up 
to get our bearings, — then to the right more 
slowly. How are we to find the house in the dark- 
ness ? 

It must be here, for a lighted lantern hangs 
from a post. We drive in, and a man in overalls 
and rubber boots takes our mare without a word, 
and motions us toward the door. We enter the 
sitting-room. In the corner is a melodeon, closed, 
and covered with a green cloth. On the melodeon 
is an old violin with all the strings broken but 
the G. A shaded lamp burns on the centre-table. 
There is a case of stuffed birds on a small marble- 
topped table in another corner, and a glass frame 
of wax flowers on a shelf. On the walls are two 
black - framed oval portraits, horrible carica- 
tures of deceased persons, the lady in black and 
white checked dress, low in the neck, and with 
a large locket or medallion on her breast. Her 
hair is parted in the middle and brought down 
over her ears in a quaint old style recently re- 
vived. On all sides her ample skirts spread in 
billows. The man is brave in stock and tight- 
sleeved, narrow-shouldered black coat, and vo- 



116 FARMING IT 

luminous gray trouserloons and beautifully pol- 
ished boots. 

On the floor is a bright but somewhat faded 
carpet and braided rugs. A eat dozes in front of 
the open fire-place, neatly swept and dusted, 
while in a corner an old eight-day clock ticks 
loudly. I sink into a cambric-covered deep rocker 
and wait. 

The clock ticks with dreary monotony, there 
is the sound of muffled footsteps overhead, then 
a door opens, and a portly, waistless, middle- 
aged woman beckons me upstairs. 

As I enter a dimly lighted room, as noiselessly 
as possible, I see stretched on a bed, and covered 
with a patch -work quilt, an old gray -haired 
man, with a strong face sunken and yellowed by 
wasting disease, the lower jaw more prominent 
than in health, and the gnarled, twisted, calloused 
hands resting on the white sheet. By his side 
sits a sweet-faced old lady, with tremulous lips 
and troubled eyes, patiently awaiting the end. 
The old man opens his eyes and half raises his 
hand in welcome. I am in time. 

Long before I come from that chamber the 
first streaks of light appear in the sky, and as I 
reenter the sitting-room it is nearly dawn. I look 
at the violin, the G string has snapped. There 
is a confused murmur and a hurried rush of feet 
overhead. 



A NIGHT CALL 117 

We go slowly out to where Polly is waiting and 
drive quietly out of the gateway. Hear the birds ! 
Robins, bobolinks, catbirds, orioles, purple mar- 
tins, — a rare bird now, — chewinks, purple 
finches, ground sparrows, vireos, red-winged 
blackbirds, bluebirds, pewees, summer yellow- 
birds, warblers, chippys, wrens, oven-birds, and 
every other bird that has a voice, are filling the 
air with trills and warbles, chirps and fluty grace 
notes. The air is full of the sweet scent of locust 
blossoms and the woody smell of the pines. 

Everything speaks of life and love and happi- 
ness, but back in a darkened room the G string 
has snapped, and a life has gone out for all time. 




CHAPTER XIV 

GREAT EXPECTATIONS 

BOUT the Fourth of July my vegetable 
garden was in the most flourishing 
condition possible. My corn was thick 
and straight and green, my beets were 
bushy and the leaves purple and glossy. For 
weeks I had luxuriated in salad from my lettuce- 
rows, in radishes, exhumed from my own beds 
and cut into fancy shapes, and in pie-plant, which 
unfortunately I had received as courtesies from 
my neighbors, as my fatal error in treating my 
own plants as burdocks had prevented me from 
enjoying my own products. 

I had even gone to the extent of pulling a few 
potato-tops, hoping that their unusual develop- 
ment might have produced new potatoes of avail- 
able size; but what I found were seemingly 
covered with warts and blisters, which rendered 
them extremely unattractive in appearance, and 
slimy and disagreeable to the touch. 

Shortly after the Fourth I engaged a man to 
mow the grass-crop. He appeared with an as- 
sistant, and after viewing the astonishing growth 
of pigweed and other worthless vegetation, they 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 119 

hung up their scythes and returned for bush- 
hooks, with which they swung and hacked all day, 
and then, having charged on a bush-hooking 
basis, which is one half larger price than plain 
mowing, they departed, after assuring me that the 
crop was of absolutely no value, which, as I had 
been so informed for about two hundred times, 
I knew perfectly. 

No long rains, no showers, no thunder-storms 
came to interfere with haymaking, which could 
scarcely have been the case had the crop been 
of value. But after I had collected the entire 
crop in one enormous pile it made a gorgeous 
bonfire, but left a black smooch on the green sur- 
face of my field that did not entirely disappear 
during the rest of the season. 

My strawberry-plants had grown surprisingly, 
but they demanded more of my time than almost 
all the other crops together. For although they 
grew very fast, they appeared to be on terms of in- 
timacy with almost every sort of base weed, whose 
company they appeared to court, and who in 
turn were fondly embraced by the tendrils of 
their aristocratic acquaintances. 

Again, these strawberry-plants had the most 
astonishing fertility in sending out trailers or 
creepers or shoots, which, if not pruned, would 
in a very short time have converted the entire 
farm into an enormous bed of strawberry vines. 



120 FARMING IT 

I had six rows of these plants, and it was my 
custom every morning, just after finishing groom- 
ing Polly and Lady M. and Jack, to go down on 
my knees, and with a pair of shears prune one 
row of trailers before breakfast. Thus the begin- 
ning of the next week would find me at the start- 
ing-point, with just as many, if not more, trailers 
to cut and weeds to disentangle and pull up than 
ever before. However, I persevered with the hope 
of bountiful berries the second year. 

A few days after the Fourth we had a terrific 
storm of wind and rain which lasted all one 
night. The next morning, when the sun rose, I 
was early on hand to see the results of the storm 
on the garden. Although partially protected by 
a high board-fence, my corn was badly damaged 
and a good deal of it prostrate. My other vege- 
tables had suffered less. 

I retired to the barn and communed bitterly 
with myself. "Ingenui, et duplicis tendens ad 
sidera palmas talia voce retuli : ' O terque quater- 
que beati quis ante ora patrum Troise sub moeni- 
bus altis contigit oppetere !' " Was it for this that 
I had worked, and slaved, and dug, and hoed, 
and pruned, and scratched, and raised blood- 
blisters on my hands ? Was it for this that I had 
spent evening after evening with lantern, wheel- 
barrow, tub, pail and dipper, faithfully coaching 
the struggling plants through a dry spell ? Was 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 121 

it for this that I had borne with calm disdain 
paternal scoff, uxorial jeer, and neighborly gibe ? 

Then I went back and made an examination. 
None, or at least very few, of them were broken. 
I tried the experiment of straightening one plant 
and heaping earth round it to keep it straight. 
It was perfectly feasible. For an hour before tea, 
and after tea until late at night, with lantern I 
worked until every bent stalk was straightened. It 
was fully a week after that when Daniel, the om- 
niscient, informed me that the stalks would have 
straightened out themselves. 

A day or two after, my friend Daniel called 
to see Lady M. and to determine whether or not 
it would be advisable to grant that blue-blooded 
animal a long holiday in view of the great event 
in her life, and, I also felt, in my fortune and 
reputation as a stock-farmer. 

By his advice Lady M. was given a vacation 
in the paddock, quite a pretentious name for an 
open shed with a fifty-foot run. It seemed as 
soon as she was turned into the lot that my ex- 
pectations were almost realized. I am a little 
given to building air-castles, and I must confess 
that I looked forward to the possibility of breed- 
ing the two-minute trotter. I realized the ex- 
treme improbability of anything of the kind ever 
happening to me, and yet it was a possibility. 
Lady M. showed good breeding. There were 



122 FARMING IT 

strong evidences of the Morgan in her conforma- 
tion, her courage, and her quiet, gentle ways. 
And when bred to Electric Jim (2.161), first 
dam Sukey M. (2.21), second dam Wilkes Jane 
(2.12^), what record would daunt her foal. 

It might be — well, I had known men to get 
into the judges' stand for less reasons than that. 
I even might sit in the sulky and have a card 
with a number on it fastened to my sleeve. 
" Gentleman driver" was by no means a title with- 
out honor. Perhaps the many trials and losses I 
had suffered in my farm and garden investments 
might in a way be a sort of preparation designed 
to make me appreciate all the more my success 
as a horse-breeder, just as a man sometimes eats 
heartily of salt fish before attending a banquet 
at which wine is to flow freely. 

At all events, should her get not be a racer, 
the ownership of a finely bred, game roadster, 
with all that goes to make up a gentleman's 
driving outfit, would certainly afford me great 
pleasure, as would the casual mention of Elec- 
tric Jim (2.161), first dam Sukey M. (2.21), 
second dam Wilkes Jane (2.12^). 

True, I had never heard of these famous horses 
except in the advertisement referred to, but their 
records were unquestionably genuine, and some 
day when I had time enough I would look them 
up, and paste their records in my stud-book. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 123 

which I anticipated buying as soon as the foal 
arrived. 

Every day was one of expectation. In the 
morning I was first at the paddock. At noon I 
hurried there from the office, and visited there 
the last thing at night. I arranged for my family 
to notify me by telephone. My friends and neigh- 
bors were nearly as much interested as I was, 
and waited in more or less anxiety for the event. 

For several weeks this went on. I do not 
know how I could have stood the strain had it 
not been for the fact that I was kept busy both 
by office and farm work. The corn silked and 
became a daily course on our table, and on those 
of our relatives and neighbors. 

My beans likewise helped maintain my repu- 
tation as a hon vivant, while some of my other 
crops were maturing in fine shape. It was, how- 
ever, at the cost of constant labor to keep down 
weeds. Indeed, I do not believe I could have 
succeeded had it not been for the occasional as- 
sistance of Mike, who would accomplish in a day 
more than I would in a week. 

I forgot to say that during the month of June 
I had, literally, bushels of roses, which I distrib- 
uted by the pailful among our friends, the success- 
ful cultivation of which (both friends and roses) 
kept my wife engaged in a desperate hand-to- 
hand encounter with all manner of creeping, 



124 FARMING IT 

crawling, climbing, and flying things. This was 
not a bad thing for me, for it took up so much of 
her waking hours as to leave me practically free 
from interference or even criticism in my employ- 
ment of my time. 

About the middle of August I was called away 
from home to attend a hearing in a farming town 
about twenty-five miles distant, which could not 
be reached by rail. Consequently, I had to drive 
Polly, and as the hearing lasted three days, I 
was unable to return home at night. 

There were several lawyers connected with 
the case, and a large number of witnesses, several 
of whom stayed at the hotel where I was staying. 
In the evenings we would sit out on the hotel 
piazza and chat with one another and such of the 
farmers as might drop in. 

In this way I got much valuable information 
in relation to farm matters, which would have 
saved me much trouble and considerable loss if 
I had known it before. Everybody was interested 
in my brood-mare and the expected colt, and I 
talked horse for hours. 

While I was sitting thus the second evening, 
I was called to the telephone, and responded with 
alacrity, for I felt that news of the colt's arrival 
had come. Sure enough, I recognized my daugh- 
ter's voice. 

"Hullo, papa." 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 125 

"Hullo, little girl." 

" Oh, papa, what do you guess ? Lady M. has 
got a colt. This afternoon I went out, and there 
was a colt in the pen. Ain't you s'prised.^" 

"Well, well, I'm glad of it, I should say I was 
surprised." 

*' Grandpa and Mr. Gilman's man are taking 
care of it. Oh, it has got the longest legs !" 

"What does Daniel say about it.^" 

"Oh, he said it was the most perfect one he 
ever saw. He told me to tell you it was the most 
perfect specimen he ever saw." 

"Are you all well.?" 

"Yes, and we want you to come home just 
as soon as you can. Oh, papa, I went right up 
and patted it." 

"Well, good-by." 

"Good-by." 

Every one about the hotel congratulated me, 
and the next day, after finishing the case, to which 
I'm afraid I could not give my undivided atten- 
tion, I started for home directly after lunch, 
having notified my family that I would be at 
home at about four o'clock. 

My arrival had evidently been not entirely 
unexpected by persons not connected with my 
family, for when I drove into the yard I found 
quite a crowd awaiting me and smiling delightedly 
at my return. There was my venerable father, 



126 FARMING IT 

Daniel, and his wife, the Professor and his wife, 
my own family, and several other neighbors, to 
greet me and shower congratulations upon me. 

It was the first time that a colt of unblemished 
ancestry had been foaled in that neighborhood, 
and it w^as delightful to witness the genuine 
appreciation of our friends. I really felt as if 
I were the chosen instrument to lead them to 
material improvement in the most important 
branch of farm-life. 

And so, escorted by my friends, I walked tri- 
umphantly toward the paddock, trying hard not 
to show too openly the pride and elation I felt, 
and listening to the heartfelt encomiums of my 
friends. 

" Well," said our friend Daniel enthusiastically, 
" I have bred horses all my life, and I am bound 
to say it is one of the most perfect types I have 
yet seen. And when a colt shows its character- 
istics so young, you may be sure that they are 
going to stay with it during life." 

I beamed with pride. 

"Was there ever a truer saying than * blood 
will tell,' Daniel ?" asked my venerable father. 

"Never, George," replied Daniel. " See how 
strongly the remarkable qualities of his sire ap- 
pear in the colt. Why Lady M., good animal 
that she is, is not in the same class with the colt." 

I beamed some more. 



GREAT EXPECTATIONS 127 

I 

"Don't you think," queried the Professor, 
"that the colt may have inherited some of its 
remarkable qualities from the first dam of Elec- 
tric Jim, Sukey M. (2.21) ?" 

"Or from the second dam, Wilkes Jane 
(2.12^) ?" suggested another neighbor. "We 
all know that the Wilkes blood is highly thought 
of among horse-breeders." 

As he said this I came to the paddock, and my 
friends drew apart from me in order to let me 
feast my eyes on the colt. 

I looked and looked again, and leaned my 
hands on the fence and stared foolishly. For a 
moment I could scarcely believe my eyes, for 
there stood Lady M., her great soft eyes full of 
love, nuzzling, by all the gods, a long-legged, 
round-barreled, big-headed mule colt, with the 
most grotesquely enormous ears I had ever seen. 
Shades of Balaam and Don Quixote! it looked 
like a jack-rabbit on stilts. 

I swallowed hastily, looked for a place to sit 
down, grinned foolishly, and turned to see my 
friends in various conditions of convulsions. 
Daniel was shaking like a huge tumbler of jelly ; 
the Professor was leaning over the fence, holding 
himself with both hands; my daughter was 
dancing a grotesque jig ; my son was rolling on 
the ground ; while the rest of the assemblage were 
bending and twisting and cackling like lunatics. 



128 FARMING IT 

Well, I have faced financial crises with coolness, 
ridiculous situations with dignity, and reverses 
with resignation, but I never was so completely 
"graveled" in my life. 

I do not know what the result would have been, 
— whether I should have brained the shrieking 
maniacs, or the mule and its fool dam, or fled 
from the place, — but just then the sight of that 
mare nursing that infernal jack- rabbit struck 
my sense of the ridiculous, and I became the 
loudest and most abandoned of the shrieking 
crew. 

When I had in a measure recovered, I invited 
all hands to the house, and set out whatever I 
could find as our first libation to the god of treats. 

What that mule cost me since I scarcely dare 
estimate. 




IT LOOKED LIKE A JACK-RABBIT ON STILTS 



CHAPTER XV 

THE TALES OF GRAMP 




ANIEL and Gramp, my two nearest 
neighbors, were as chummy as two 
old friends could be. Gramp was a 
good many years older than Daniel, 
and always claimed that Daniel should have 
more respect for his age than he had shown. 
Daniel would retort that father's age was the 
only thing about him that he did respect. Each 
one accused the other of cheating him in horse, 
cow, harness, or wagon trades. 

As Daniel knew more about cows and horses 
than father, he generally had an advantage over 
the old gentleman in a trade in these staple prod- 
ucts; but when it came to harnesses and car- 
riages, especially when real antiquity entered 
into the matter, Gramp had the grape-vine twist 
on Daniel. In his early days, before he forsook 
the brad-awl and the waxed thread for the lucra- 
tive sinecure of a custom-house clerkship, Gramp 
was a harness - maker and a carriage - trimmer. 
Consequently he knew the ins and outs of the busi- 
ness, and Daniel had to manoeuvre very cau- 



130 FARMING IT 

tiously when he and Gramp were engaged in a 
transaction involving these articles. 

On the other hand, Daniel was a farmer, a 
gentleman farmer who sold the products of his 
farm, displaying much ingenuity in obtaining, 
as Gramp said, the highest market prices for the 
lowest grade of goods. On one occasion Daniel 
sold Gramp some baled hay, about three fourths 
of which, when shaken out with the fork, refused 
to come down, and floated round in the air in the 
form of hayseed, chaff, and dust, leaving of each 
bale about three pecks of tangible fodder. 

To avenge this high-handed outrage Gramp 
traded "as nice a pair of pigs as you ever saw, 
Daniel," with that rotund gentleman, for a kick- 
ing gray mare with a milk-leg and the scratches ; 
and when Daniel came for the pigs he found to 
his horror they were guinea-pigs, and worth 
twenty-five cents a pair, rather more, in fact, 
than what the mare was worth, for she kicked out 
the entire side of the barn, and cost Gramp about 
twenty dollars in repairs. 

But Daniel and Gramp were great story-tellers, 
each being gifted with a vivid imagination and 
a most w^himsical manner of expressing himself. 
Daniel, although a farmer, was a confirmed 
skeptic in such matters, and was in tastes and 
feeling a sport. He read the "Sporting Life" 
religiously, knew every professional baseball 



TALES OF GRAMP 131 

player by name, and every college and inter- 
scholastic football player by heart. 

Gramp, on the other hand, while not knowing 
the difference, except in taste, between burdock 
and pie-plant, or between smart- weed and spinach, 
was an enthusiast in farming. He scoffed loudly 
at modern sports, and told most astonishing 
tales about his proficiency in all sports when a 
young man. 

They used to sit under a large elm tree in front 
of my house, and smoke and tell stories, and 
they usually had a crowd of eager listeners. 
Perhaps the following narrative may best express 
their style of oratory and the strength of their 
imagination. 

It was one day in the fall when Dick with half 
a dozen student friends had come in great glee 
from witnessing a game at the Academy Campus, 
and as usual Gramp had a story ready. 

"Gee! Gramp," said Dick, "you ought to 
see one of these games. Our backs just ripped 
holes through their line that you could have 
driven an ox-team through. We beat 'em seven- 
teen to nothing. One collar-bone broken and 
two ankles wrenched. That's playing, I tell you, 
Gramp." 

"Hm!" said Gramp, removing his pipe and 
crossing his legs, "I guess you never saw a real 
game of football, Dick. Say, Daniel, did you 



132 FARMING IT 

ever hear of the big game in '42 when I played 
right guard against Andover?" 

"I never heard the details of it fully," said 
Daniel, "but I heard it was a great game, and 
that there were a good many serious accidents 
and pretty rough playing. Several men were 
killed, were they not, George ?" queried Daniel. 

"Not in that game," replied Gramp; "that 
was in '39 when Williams, Andover's left tackle, 
was killed, and Lovejoy, Exeter's right guard, 
made a touchdown before Williams's body had 
been carried off the field. This caused a protest 
by Andover, and as the referee overruled it, 
Andover broke into the field to rough-house the 
referee, and of course Exeter had to stand up 
for him. 

"There was a bad time before the fight was 
stopped, and a good many were killed and 
wounded on both sides. I was there after the 
thing was over and saw the dead laid out in rows. 
That was bad enough, but not nearly as bad as 
hearing the wounded cry for water and beg the 
by-standers to put them out of their misery." 

Gramp paused, sighed, and smoked reminis- 
cently for a few moments, while the boys stared 
with astonishment and half smiles of incredulity, 
which changed to very serious looks as they saw 
Gramp's look of profound seriousness and Daniel's 
sober phiz. 



TALES OF GRAMP 133 

"Go on, Gramp," said Dick at last, as Gramp 
sat staring into vacancy, his mind evidently intent 
on visions of the past ; " tell us about the game 
of '42, when you played." 

"Oh yes, Dick, where was I?" said Gramp. 
"I know now, it was about the game of '39. 
Well, naturally this created a good deal of feeling 
between the schools, and the games were stopped 
for a year or so. Then the doctors of the town, 
aided by the druggists, the dealers in artificial 
limbs, glass eyes, and false teeth, the dentists, 
and the undertakers, all signed a petition to the 
faculty of both schools to allow the game to be 
played as usual, stipulating that they would use 
their influence with the students to have a more 
open game played. 

"The undertakers rather objected to this, as 
they got their profit out of the fatalities, but 
finally it was brought about that the game of '42 
was played on the campus in front of the Exeter 
school. 

"Well, as I was saying, Dickie," continued 
Gramp, "that game with Andover beat every- 
thing so far. People came from all over the coun- 
try. They crowded the windows and housetops. 
Andover had her strongest eleven on the field. 
There were some very peculiar looking men in 
the Andover line, who attracted much attention 
by their enormous muscular development. We 



134 FARMING IT 

did not know until some time after the game that 
Andover had hired Yankee Sullivan, John C. 
Heenan, and Awful Gardner, famous prize- 
fighters, and had given them easy courses in 
theology to keep them in school. They had tried 
to work in Molyneux, the nigger who went to 
England to fight Jackson, and they put pipe- 
clay on him ; but it cracked and fell off the first 
five minutes of play, and the Southerners of both 
sides drew the color-line. 

"We had some outside assistance, too, for we 
did n't intend to be behind in good works. So 
we had introduced to the membership of the 
Junior Class the three strongest men in town, all 
blacksmiths, — Jim Ellison, Charles Lane, and 
Adoniram J. Towle. True enough, they had n't 
been in the Academy long enough to get much 
of a mastery of Latin or Greek, and intended 
to return to their anvils as soon as the game was 
over. 

"I was playing right guard against Yankee 
Sullivan, and in the first line-up I got one in the 
jaw that nearly floored me. I knew then what 
was up, and the next time the ball was put in play 
I dodged his left and put in a counter of my own, 
and there was a hole in the Andover line through 
which our right half-back made a run of forty- 
five yards to a touchdown right between the 
posts. After the goal was kicked and we went 



TALES OF GRAMP 135 

back to pick up Yankee Sullivan, we found that 
the subs had picked him up and put him in the 
ambulance." 

"Was he killed, Gramp?" asked Dick. 

"No, not quite. I understand he partly re- 
covered, but never was any good in the ring again, 
and was lynched in California some years after. 

" In the next ten minutes' play, Andover made 
a touchdown through Jim Ellison, our centre, 
who could n't stand up to Heenan. Jim was 
strong and gritty, but could n't box. So after a 
conference between the coach and captain, I was 
put in as centre. I saw Heenan' s face fall when he 
found me opposite him, and I knew I had him 
licked. He was a tough customer, and in the next 
rush bored in on my slats as I swung on his jaw ; 
we then clinched, and I back-heeled him, and our 
left half - back made twenty yards through the 
hole before he was downed. 

"The next rush Heenan rather bested me, I 
must confess, as he butted me in the stomach, 
and Awful Gardner, having thrown Charles Lane, 
secured the ball and came through centre for a 
run of one hundred and eighty-seven yards." 

"Gee! Gramp," interrupted Dick, "how far 
was it between goals?" 

"Two hundred yards," replied Gramp. "You 
see, we had got within ten feet of their goal-line, 
and when Awful was downed he was on our three- 



136 FARMING IT 

yard line. The question then was whether we 
would hold them for downs. Well, on the next 
line-up Heenan tried a tremendous upper cut, 
which I dodged, and the force of his blow turned 
him a complete back summerset, and while he 
was in the air I dove underneath him, got the 
ball from their quarter-back before he could pass 
it to the backs, and when the crowd overtook me 
I was lying between the Andover goal-posts with 
the ball safely over the line. 

"When the goal was kicked and the sides 
separated, Heenan was found still turning sum- 
mersets like an animated pin- wheel, not having 
been able to stop, and time was called until he 
could be stopped and recover from his giddiness. 

" This, of course, caused a good deal of cheer- 
ing for me, and gave us a decided lead over An- 
dover. So far nobody had been killed, and only 
a few crippled for life, and the first half closed 
with Exeter leading Andover by the score of twelve 
to nothing. 

"In the fifteen minutes' rest between halves, 
the Mayor and Common Council waited on me 
in Dr. Soule's parlor, and informed me that the 
Board of Trade and the Faculty and the Deacon 
of the United Churches were going to give me 
a banquet at the Squamscott after the game, 
provided we won and prevented Andover from 
scoring. 



TALES OF GRAMP 137 

"You can imagine this made me feel good, 
and I determined to do my utmost to win by a 
big score. But when we lined up for the second 
half, I found that Lane had given place to a new 
man, and that Towle, although still playing at left 
guard, was about all in. This really put me op- 
posite two men. Awful Gardner and Heenan, 
a pretty bad place for a young fellow of nineteen 
against two of the best heavy-weight prize- 
fighters the world had ever seen. 

"To add to this, all the plays were directed 
through me. So you see, Dickie, I was in for a 
warm afternoon. And a warm one it w^as for a 
fact. Every time the ball was put in play. Awful 
would fell Towle to the earth, and then he and 
Heenan w^ould swing for my jaw and lead for my 
wind with heavy rights and lefts, while I could 
only get in one blow to their two. I noticed, how- 
ever, that I kept them from getting through, and 
after a half dozen line-ups I found they were 
weakening. 

'*! then put in play a dodge that Andover 
could n't block and had no way of meeting. I 
whispered to the quarter to keep back far enough 
to give me a free swing and be ready with the 
ball. Then, when play was called, I waited until 
Heenan or Awful made the first rush for me, 
then seized the first one, dashed him against the 
other, rushed back, grabbed the ball and started 



138 FARMING IT 

through the hole I had made, generally making 
from thirty to forty yards. 

"Neither Heenan nor Awful could stop that 
play, and before the game was called I had made 
sixteen unaided touchdowns, from which twelve 
goals were kicked, which left the score with 
what we had made in the first half, 104 to 0. 

" That evening we had a banquet at the Squam- 
scott. I was the only one of the eleven, and the 
only one who took part in the game besides the 
referee and the time-keeper, who could appear 
at table. We had a fine spread and good speeches 
were made. Dr. Soule made an address in Latin 
and I made a brief response in the same language, 
and we all sang a Latin ode composed by the 
pastor of the church in the Academy yard, and 
which ended with, — 

*Ad Hades cum Andoveria!* 

three times, and the school yell. I had a copy of 
it somewhere but I suppose it was lost. 

"Well, that was all very flattering and nice, 
especially when they all filed by my chair to shake 
hands and the faculty said, 

*Macte, puer, virtute*; 

but what I valued most was when I was called 
into Heenan's and Awful Gardner's rooms, 
where they lay swathed in bandages and smelling 



TALES OF GRAMP 139 

of iodoform, witch-hazel and New England rum. 
I sat on the edge of the bed, and they both said 
they had fought the best men in England and 
America and had never run up against any one 
who could hold a candle to me. They wanted 
to train me for the ring to beat the best man in 
England, but I told them I was thinking of study- 
ing for the ministry, and I could n't give that up. 
"That's all, Dickie, my boy; but when you 
hear people talking of the modern game of 
football and a few dinky collar-bones broken, just 
tell them of the way we played in '42 and '43, 
when men were killed and crippled for life, 
won't you .^" 

"Gee!" said Dick, "that was a game." 
"Gee!" chimed in the students, "I guess we 
must be going " ; and they stole off on tiptoe, while 
Gramp winked at Daniel and filled his pipe 
afresh. 

On another occasion Gramp had been holding 
forth to a select crowd on a favorite hobby of his. 
Gramp always maintained that if he had a few 
acres of land and one thousand hens he could 
readily make at least one thousand dollars per 
year, or an average of one dollar per biddy. With 
care of an extraordinary nature fifteen hundred 
dollars would be not unreasonable. 

Various opinions were advanced, and finally 



140 FARMING IT 

Daniel's opinion was asked ; and in reply he im- 
provised the following sonata. 

"Now, gentlemen," said Daniel, with his at- 
tractive smile, "I will admit that my friend 
Georere knows more about old harnesses and 
pre-colonial buggies than any man in our vicin- 
ity ; but as for hens, he knows absolutely nothing. 
Now I have studied into the matter, experimented 
a good deal, and have been the wiser by experi- 
ence. I never raised a hen that did n't cost me 
three dollars, and which would have sold under 
the most favorable conditions for seventy-five 
cents. I never got a dozen of eggs from my hens 
that did n't stand me forty-eight cents when the 
market price was twenty-two, and a dollar and 
seventy- five when the market was forty-eight. 
I never ate one of my chickens at a less price than 
sixty cents a pound when Boston quotations 
were twenty- four." 

"Nonsense, Daniel," interrupted Gramp with 
a sniff, "you did n't know how to go about it." 

"I tell you, George," said Daniel, raising his 
voice, "I know what I am talking about. What 
do you suppose your son's experience is.'^" 

" What ? him ! " said Gramp in disgust. " Why, 
if he drank a glass of cistern water, it would cost 
him ten cents." 

"Well," said Daniel, "I guess he is no worse 
than the rest of us, but let me give you my ex- 



TALES OF GRAMP 141 

perience. You say a hen ought to average a dollar 
a year profit. That is all right provided it did n't 
cost anything to keep a hen during that time. But 
the profit must be figured on the cost, and the 
question is, what does it cost to keep a hen a 
year.? Isn't that so, boys.?" 

"That's all right, Daniel," chimed in the boys. 

"Well," rejoined Daniel, "what does it cost to 
keep a hen a year.? Frankly, I don't know, for I 
never limited operations to one hen. If, as my 
wife has frequently told me, I had been contented 
with one hen, and had kept her in a hen-proof en- 
closure where she could n't by any possibility get 
out and ruin flower-beds, and defile the front 
steps, and make the face of nature a howling, 
cackling wilderness from morning to night, then 
perhaps I would have known where I stood, and 
most assuredly would have known where she 
stood in the matter. 

" Nor can I estimate in mere dollars and cents 
the actual expense of keeping many hens, for 
there are some things whose value cannot be 
reduced to legal tender. So to average the thing I 
will estimate my hen-holdings at twenty-five 
birds. First, I bought the twenty-five fowl, pay- 
ing therefor fancy prices for very common hens. 
I am glad that I cannot remember what they cost 
me. Next, I fed them generously for a year, and 
that cost I cannot estimate, thank Heaven ! My 



142 FARMING IT 

time, of no particular value, I also eliminate from 
the estimate. 

" What else did they cost ? 

" First, the love and affection of my wife ; and 
really an unprejudiced person could not fail to 
be immensely impressed with the size and variety 
of her repertoire on the hen question. 

** Second, the lining of several coats, caused by 
carelessly putting new laid eggs into my pockets 
and forgetting them until I sat down on them. 

"Third, the regard of kind neighbors, whose 
flower and vegetable-gardens have been ruined 
by some other person's hens masquerading as 
mine. 

"Fourth, the necessity of repainting at great 
expense a democrat wagon and a concord, which 
had, without my knowledge or consent, served 
as roosts during the winter for several vagrant 
biddies which eschewed the comforts of the hen- 
house. 

"Fifth, public disgrace of the entire family in 
serving to distinguished guests breakfast bacon 
and addled and explosive eggs, taken by mistake 
from under a setter. 

" Sixth, a permanent scar on my face, received 
in taking a setter off her nest. 

" Seventh, my arm in a sling for ten days as a 
result of separating two fighting cocks, and re- 
ceiving a prodigious thump and a deep spur- 



TALES OF GRAMP 143 

wound in my left hand, from one of the comba- 
tants which was in the act of making a pass at 
his opponent at the exact moment I interfered. 

"Eighth, re-sodding my own lawn and those of 
several neighbors. 

"Ninth, loss of sleep from early crowing and 
consequent mental disturbance and melancholia. 

"Tenth, my reputation as a worthy citizen 
merged in the unsavory character of a sport. 

"Eleventh, have become wind-broken from 
being called upon at any time of the day to join 
the family in a desperate race about the neighbor- 
hood, to head off and corral squawking pullets. 

"Twelfth, have offered two dollar and a half 
cups to local poultry shows which have been duly 
advertised as fifteen dollar cups, to my lasting 
infamy and disgrace. 

"Thirteenth, have contracted the roup, the 
pip, and chicken-pox from similarly affected 
poultry. 

"Fourteenth, stepped on a hen in the dark at 
the top of the stairs in the barn, and descended 
like a mountain avalanche or a snowslide from 
a tin roof, accompanied by a tin pail of corn-meal, 
a lantern, and a torrent of imprecations on hens 
in particular and everything else in general, 
generous distribution of eggs and corn-meal, 
total eclipse of lantern, and severe fracture of 
tin pail. 



144 FARMING IT 

" Fifteenth, protracted lameness caused by last- 
mentioned rapid transit. 

" Sixteenth, shot at predatory cat with chicken 
in mouth. Missed cat, but killed mother hen and 
eight small chicks, broke two panes of glass, and 
scared an hysterical neighbor into spasms. 

"Figure this out for yourself, strike a balance 
if you can, and then decide 'What profiteth it a 
man if he gain the whole world,' but lose every 
shred of his reputation as a man and a brother, 
a citizen and a neighbor, a husband and a father. 

"Well," said Daniel, rising slowly and pon- 
derously, as a sporty-looking individual, driving 
a rakish-looking chestnut with boots, drove 
into his yard, "it looks like a horse trade" ; and 
with one accord the assembly adjourned to see 
Daniel do up the sporty stranger. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE SHOWER 




BLAZE of sunlight, a yellow gleam 
of dusty road, a brown expanse of 
parched and dying lawns, of drooping 
leaves, a dry filing of crickets in the 
hayfields, and a bank of purple-black clouds 
rising rapidly in the west. 

Beneath the currant bushes, now crimson with 
fruit, the fowls with drooping wings and with 
wide-opened mouths, pant with the heat. Not a 
bird-song is heard ; only a faint and distant coo- 
ing from the pigeon-loft makes the stillness more 
marked. All nature seems prostrated by the heat 
of early afternoon. In the distance the faint rattle 
of the mowing machines sounds hot and dry. 

On the main business street the sun blazes with 
an oven-like heat. Under the shade of the 
withered elms and faded maples stand the store 
horses, with drooping heads, stamping impa- 
tiently at the flies. An occasional heavy cart 
rumbles by, the driver lolling with throat bare 
and shirt sleeves rolled to his shoulders. The 
street is dry, dusty, panting and lifeless. 



146 FARMING IT 

Suddenly a faint and prolonged roll of thunder 
is heard, dying away gradually. Then the silence 
is profound, for every cricket has ceased its filing. 
Then a quick flash, so indistinct that it is well- 
nigh invisible and seems but a quick vibration of 
the atmosphere. 

A long wait, and again a profound rumble punc- 
tuated with deep and resounding thumps, like a 
cannon ball rolled down the attic-stairs, slowly 
dies away; yet the sun blazes fiercely and the 
leaves of the trees hang pulseless, the birds are 
silent, and the air dense and motionless. 

Again a flash, and this time a vivid one, and 
after a shorter interval a thunderous roll of mus- 
ketry. Suddenly it grows dark, a greenish, glim- 
mering, purplish light, then a brilliant jagged 
flash tears across the blackness, followed by a 
wrenching, rattling peal of thunder, but not a 
drop of rain falls. 

Then with a roar and a cloud of dust the wind 
is upon us. The trees bend and writhe and lash 
the air like giant snakes. There is a blinding, 
vivid flash, a rattling roar of thunder, and then 
the rain comes. First, in huge spats that splash 
in the dust with large irregular blotches ; then a 
driving torrent that fills the gutters to raging 
streams, makes foaming sprays of the conduc- 
tors, and lays the grass as flat as if a scythe had 
passed over it. 



THE SHOWER 147 

The darkness has increased until the sudden 
flashes of lightning seem doubly blinding, the 
rain conies down in slanting arrows, with a rush- 
ing, hissing roar that almost drowns the thunder. 
The sewer-holes are swirling whirlpools choked 
with leaves, twigs, and litter of every sort. 

And now a deluge of humanity, caught in the 
rain which has come so suddenly, passes through 
the square and seeks shelter from the downpour 
in every direction. It is interesting to note the 
different types. It is possible to study human 
nature and anatomy, and to blend instruction 
and amusement in this view from our oflSce- 
windows. 

Here comes a fat woman, with puffy ankles 
bulging from flat, soft shiny shoes with an elastic 
V-shaped gore in the sides. She wears whity-gray 
stockings of generous size, and toes in. She is 
evidently a person of some determination, as she 
elbows her way to the shelter of the nearest awn- 
ing. She is rosy, well-dressed, and evidently 
prosperous, but I am glad I'm not a fat w^oman 
with bulging ankles in whity-gray stockings. 

Three barefooted boys come next, laughing, 
tussling, pushing, and playing tricks on one an- 
other. The rain splashes on their bare heads 
and drenches them, but they seek no shelter, but 
shout, laugh, and splash through the swirling 
torrents, like ducks. 



148 FARMING IT 

Then comes a thin-legged, gaunt man with 
loose trousers, too short, and frock-coat, too long. 
Why should a thin-legged, gaunt man wear loose 
trousers and why, of all things, a frock-coat ? 
The water drips from his hat-brim as he strides 
powerfully for shelter. The wind blows his wet 
trousers against his shanks, disclosing the ex- 
treme attenuation of his figure, astonishing to the 
beholder. 

Look ! here comes a ponderous individual car- 
rying an umbrella. He walks easily, his chest 
protrudes, he appears conscious, perhaps a trifle 
over-conscious, of his vast superiority to climatic 
conditions. He w^ould not run from a shower, 
not he. The rain pours and the procession of 
passers-by scurry in every direction. Ordinary 
everyday people may grow excited over such 
trivial matters as a wetting, but he has cultivated 
the true spirit of dignity and repose. He takes 
things as they come, and rises superior to his 
surroundings. 

See, as he passes the Town Hall a gust of wind 
from the north strikes him. His umbrella drives 
sou'-sou'-east. He clings to it with desperation. 
A fatal mistake, for it goes inside-out like a boy 
doing a handspring. His imitation panama fol- 
lows ; his hair, grow ing from the sides and care- 
fully brought up and pasted over his cranium to 
hide his baldness, is blown from its moorings and 




HE CLINGS TO IT WITH DESPERATION 



THE SHOWER 149 

flutters fringe-like from a dome like a shiny 
new-laid egg. 

From a calm, peaceful, well-balanced philos- 
opher, he becomes a raging, gibbering maniac. 
He rushes after the fleeing hat and bounding 
umbrella. Can he overtake them ? The wind is a 
sixty-mile-an-hour gale, in gusts. He cannot do 
better than twenty. Away he goes and is soon out 
of sight. None too soon, however, for although 
the picture is exhilarating, his language is calcu- 
lated to chill the blood, and his wild, furious 
gestures, his frenzied, rolling eyes, are disquiet- 
ing to the sensitive. 

As he disappears, a supple, slight, graceful 
young lady comes tripping along. Here is some- 
thing worth while. Dorothy Dodds in tan and 
tan hose. She holds her dress a trifle high, but I 
can forgive a good deal in that line. See! she 
comes to a deep puddle. Well ! really ! that was 
a little — never mind, it was necessary, and she 
did it very gracefully, and I would not have 
missed it for anything. 

She is followed by a well-groomed young man 
who is so interested in the contemplation of her 
many charms that he walks off the sidewalk into 
about a foot of muddy water. Serves him right, 
too! 

Now comes an old scrub-woman with faded 
brown shawl closely wrapped about her bent 



150 FARMING IT 

shoulders, a little black hat dingy with age and 
depressed over one eye, and rubbers through 
the holes of which the water squshes as she plods 
along. Rain or shine, it is all one to her provided 
she gets work enough and it is warm enough. 
She has long ceased to care for such things. And 
yet she once w^as a fun-loving, laughing, trim- 
built young girl. But that must have been long 
years ago. Poor old thing! 

The rain still falls. The streets and square 
are deserted. The thunder rolls at intervals, 
but the shower is passing. A gleam of sunshine 
strikes through a rift in the clouds and turns the 
falling drops to gold. From without comes the 
sweet homely song of the chipping sparrow. 



CHAPTER XVII 

MILKING 




HAVE bought a cow. For many years 
I have looked, longed for, and lan- 
guished after a cow, have studied the 
cow markets, have always attended 
auctions where cows were likely to be sold under 
the hammer, have made it a point to be present 
on the square Friday afternoons in the fall sea- 
son, to see the droves, and have never sufficiently 
admired the shrewd and professional way in 
which huge and unwieldy men in slouch hats, 
blue frocks and leather boots, and carrying whips, 
will enumerate the good points of a particular 
animal to a prospective purchaser. 

Indeed, it was always my ambition and my 
sincere determination, not only to own a cow, but 
on some bright day in October, when the frosts 
are sharp of a morning, the sunshine warm at 
noon, and the air cool and bracing towards 
evening, to make the trip from Gilmanton to 
Brighton with those same jolly, fat, and cattle- 
flavored men, whom I so much admired. How 
many times have I anticipated the pleasant 



152 FARMING IT 

evenings in the country taverns on the route, the 
long rides through the country roads piled high 
with red and yellow leaves, the chaffering and 
bargaining in the village squares, the meeting of 
strange droves and the locking of horns of rival 
leaders, the shouts of the drovers, the wild dashes 
after escaping cattle, the thousand and one bits of 
experience and information that one would glean, 
and the pleasant acquaintances one would make ! 

Alas ! those days have passed, and with them 
the jolly giants of the road ; the " Drover rides on 
his raids no more," and the only thing left is 
memory. No, I have forgotten, my cow is left, for 
I truly believe my cow is one of the first animals 
driven over the road in the old days. For she is 
old, my friends, a veritable antique, a sort of colo- 
nial sideboard of a cow, with curved, spindly legs, 
and knobs and peaks to hang things on, and hol- 
lows to hold things, and handles to take hold of. 

The abandoned villain and former friend who 
sold me this cow assured me that this was a cow 
as was a cow, an easy milker, kind, eats next 
to nothing, cheapest cow to keep he ever saw, 
nearly fills a pail to the brim every milking, — 
so she does, a quart pail, — and all for thirty- five 
dollars. 

Now I had inquired and found that a good cow 
ought to bring seventy-five dollars, and here was 
(at least according to my friend's description) a 



MILKING 153 

rather remarkable animal offered for thirty-five. 
It was too good a chance to lose, and I embraced 
the opportunity and made the purchase. If I had 
embraced the cow instead, I should have found 
out what a bony old hat-rack she was. But as 
she was in a close stall in a dark barn, I did not 
take the opportunity of examining my purchase 
with the care one should observe in making im- 
portant deals. 

I only knew that she had soulful eyes, a trust- 
ing manner, and smelled like a freshly fertilized 
lawn on a hot evening when the " Current Events 
Club" is dining with your wife. 

As the place of the transaction was about ten 
miles from my residence, I sent a husky German 
with a cow-rack to bring her home. It seemed 
somewhat like sending a carriage for an invalid, 
but I was anxious to get her home and see if she 
could fill that ten-quart pail I had purchased the 
night before. 

The German started before light Sunday morn- 
ing, and at about noontime, when happy children 
in white were returning from church accom- 
panied by their mothers and grandmothers, and 
smug gentlemen in frock-coats and white neck- 
ties, and bearing hymn books and " Day Springs " 
under their arms, were coming home from divine 
worship, and the air was full of the sweet incense 
of the Sabbath, Ludwig drove through Front 



154 FARMING IT 

Street, perched on the rack, and smoking a long 
meerschaum. Inside the rack was a light russet- 
colored animal, evidently made of barrel- staves. 
Had the animal not been inside the rack, it would 
have been difficult if not impossible to distinguish 
the cow from the rack. 

He drove into the yard, and without speaking 
unloaded the animal, received his pay, and 
started to leave. Just before he got out of the 
yard, he stopped and said, "Mist' Shute, dat 
cow he die pret' soon. He pretty old cow." 

I dragged her into a stall, fed her with corn- 
stalks, hay, carrots, middlings, gluten, cotton- 
seed meal, shorts, sweet apples, and potato par- 
ings, until she was distended like a balloon, and 
waited expectantly for milking time. 

Hours dragged slowly, but still the cow ate on. 
I made a hurried calculation on the back of a 
shingle, and found I had given her eighty-three 
cents' worth of food, and the supply in front of 
her was fast running short. But five o'clock 
came before she bellowed for a new supply, and 
I grasped my bright new pail, turned up a bucket 
for a milking-stool, took off my outer garments, 
my collar, cuffs, and necktie, hung them on vari- 
ous projections of her anatomy, sat down and 
began to milk. The first squeeze I made sent a 
hissing snowy stream into one shoe. The next 
connected with the palm of my hand and fizzled 



MILKING 155 

a fine spray all over me. The third did not mate- 
rialize, because she side-stepped away from me 
so suddenly that she broke my grip and I found 
myself on all fours with my head in the milk- 
pail. I arose and apostrophized her profanely, 
then sat down and resumed practice. This time 
I hit the pail twice before she swung around in 
my direction and landed me, heels up. I arose, 
smote her several thumps with the bucket, and 
invented an entirely new cuss-word to suit the 
occasion. 

Then I began, again taking the precaution to 
sit as far from her rear elevation as possible. This 
time she kicked me. It is astonishing how far 
forward a cow can reach with her hind foot. I 
retaliated with a drop kick in her stomach, which 
sounded like a bass-drum. She made another 
pass at me with her hind foot, but I saw it coming, 
dodged, and punted her to the forty-five yard 
line again, where she was held for downs. This 
closed the first round with honors even. 

The next round commenced with both com- 
batants feinting and dodging all over the ring. 
I secured a strangle hold on her, and extracted 
about a wine-glass full before she felled me to 
earth and trod over my prostrate person. I was 
not hurt, through that special providence that 
watches over fools and drunken men, and it is 
well known that I am a temperate man. 



156 FARMING IT 

After I had put my knee in the pail and pulled 
and bent it into shape, I gave her a quart or more 
gluten to take up her attention, and fell to again. 
This time I succeeded better, and before she had 
eaten the gluten I had nearly covered the bot- 
tom of the pail with foaming milk, interspersed 
with hayseed, dandruff and sawdust. Having 
finished her gluten, she looked around, appeared 
surprised at my determination, and put her foot 
in the pail ; I called time, emptied the pail for ex- 
pectant fowl, which, by the way, have formed 
the habit of gathering around me during the 
milking hour, or hour and a half, wiped the pail 
out with my handkerchief, and took a fresh hold. 
This time I retired as far forward as her shoulder, 
reached a couple of yards backward, and, in 
spite of her kicking, she could not locate me. 

Thus did my anatomical peculiarities, coupled 
with science, prevail over brute strength. I smiled 
grimly from my point of vantage, and squeezed 
and pulled manfully, while that wretched cow 
stood with her back humped and her belly 
drawn up, holding back with all her bovine 
might. 

You have all heard how the crocodile lies in 
wait until his prey gets within reach of its power- 
ful tail, when with a circular sweep it is thrown 
into the cavernous jaws. This cow suddenly re- 
versed the programme, for she violently swung 



MILKING 157 

her head round, caught me in the rear with her 
knobby horns, butted me within reach of her 
hind leg, kicked me back, butted me again, and I 
escaped only by abjectly crawling out of the stall. 

I threw up the sponge. It was a clean knock- 
out. I could not have gone back into the ring if 
the referee had counted one hundred. But I felt 
that if that cow was not milked that night, there 
was danger of an explosion before morning, so 
I called in a neighbour of ripe experience, who, 
to my great horror, took a seat on the off side of 
the animal. 

"Look out," I yelled, "don't get on that side, 
she will kill you." 

"What are you talking about?" he inquired, 
with astonishment, "have you been milking on 
the right side .^" 

"Yes," I replied, " of course I have." 

"Why, you plumb idiot, it was a wonder she 
didn't kill you," he replied. 

"She has," I assured him. 

Since that time my intimacy with that cow has 
ripened into true friendship. W^e get along charm- 
ingly. Like Bill Nye's cow, she gives milk fre- 
quently. She has phenomenal digestive powers 
and eats continuously. What becomes of her food 
is a question to baffle a government expert. She 
has not gained an ounce of flesh. Theoretically, 
she ought to give about forty quarts per day. 



158 FARMING IT 

Practically, she reluctantly yields about three 
pints, of which one pint is distributed more or 
less impartially over my clothes, the cow, and the 
surroundings. 

My milk costs me approximately twenty-six 
and one-half cents a quart. 

Is there any one who wants to buy a cow that 
is a cow, an easy milker, kind, eats next to no- 
thing, cheapest cow to keep you ever saw, nearly 
fills a pail to the brim at every milking ? She is 
a blue-blooded animal with a pedigree. I haven't 
the pedigree, but I know she is blue-blooded, 
because she gives blue-edged milk. 




CHAPTER XVIII 

THE CALF ANOTHER FOOTRACE 

XPERIENCED farmers have all 
united in an opinion that a cow should 
go dry at least six weeks before the 
y calf comes. This serves a double pur- 
pose. The cow gets a rest and a chance to re- 
cuperate from the strain of giving a pint of milk 
in a ten-quart pail twice a day, and the merry 
farmer has six weeks to get the cramps out of his 
hands, caused by trying to get the cow to part 
with that pint of milk, and the stain out of his 
soul, caused by his lying about the amount. 

In this way much good is done to the old line- 
back and to the old moss-back, and both are 
benefited to a very great degree. The cow grows 
fat on good food and inaction, but the farmer 
grows thinner, if possible, because one source of 
income, to-wit the milk, is cut off. 

However, as I was assured that this was the 
proper thing, I was determined to carry it out at 
all hazards. I didn't just know how to go to work. 
If the cow had been addicted to smoking, I could 
have made her smoke rattan, which, as every 



160 FARMING IT 

boy knows, dries up the blood, and, of course, 
could have no other effect upon the milk. 

This being out of the question, I then thought 
of giving her doses of alum. You see, when I was 
a boy and had a canker in my mouth, which was 
always explained to me by my mother as being the 
direct result of saying bad words, and which for 
many good reasons I could not deny, a little alum 
rubbed on the affected part puckered up my lips 
so that they looked like the stem end of a green 
tomato, and made my mouth so dry that I 
couldn't spit through my teeth, another accom- 
plishment of mine, for a week. But how I could 
whistle ! 

Naturally, this occurred to me as a facile 
means of drying up the old cow, but before put- 
ting it in operation I consulted the fountainhead 
of all bucolic knowledge, Daniel, my rosy and 
jocose neigbor. 

"How much milk does she give.^" queried 
Daniel, in answer to my request for instructions. 

"About a pint and a half," I replied. 

"Dry! How much drier do you expect to get 
her.^" exclaimed Daniel with some heat. "If I 
had a cow that didn't give but a pint at a milk- 
ing, I should think she was pretty almighty dry. 
You don't want to endanger your premises by 
getting her so dry that you can't take a lantern 
into the barn, do you .^" 



THE CALF 161 

"Well, no," I replied doubtfully, "but I want 
her dry." 

"Don't milk her to-morrow," said Daniel. 

So the next morning I omitted to milk her, 
and before noon my wife was in tears, three small 
children in the neighborhood had convulsions, 
and five complaints were entered to the proper 
authorities that I was maintaining a nuisance in 
keeping a bellowing cow. 

So at noon I milked her and got a quart. Then 
I went to Daniel again. 

"Don't feed her," said Daniel. 

So that noon I didn't fill the manger, but tied 
her under an open shed. Before night, several 
old ladies in the neighborhood were taken with 
nervous prostration, and I was served with a 
quo warranto, a mandamus, a ne exeat regno, a 
notice of a hearing on a petition for an injunc- 
tion, a libel for divorce, and arrested on a warrant 
on a complaint charging me with conspiracy to 
make a tumult in the compact part of the village. 

As the last-mentioned instrument was returna- 
ble before my own court, I did not worry about it, 
but hastily fed the querulous and bellowing ani- 
mal, and returned to my office where I drew up 
as an answer to the other actions : " Necessarium 
est quod non potest aliter se habere." This 
calmed my mind somewhat. I had at least got 
some cases on the docket to defend. 



162 FARMING IT 

I then returned to Daniel. 

'*Damn the cow!" said Daniel. 

"That don't amount to anything," I replied, 
"I have done that for months." 

"Kill her then," he retorted, and washed his 
hands of the affair. 

This was perhaps the best advice he had given, 
but I couldn't bring myself to do violence to so 
old and tried a chum. We had had too many 
wildly exciting times together. She was rough, 
but I always could depend on her to do the best 
she could and give me a square tussle. 

In due time the calf came and was pronounced 
a beauty. He — much to my regret it was a he 
— did not seem exactly handsome or shapely. 
On the contrary, he seemed a sprawling heap of 
awkward, bony, wobbly legs. 

Indeed, he spent the best part of the first day 
in awkward attempts to rise, and prodigious suc- 
cesses in the way of heavy crumpled-up tumbles. 
But in a few days, Moses! how that calf could 
run, kick and butt. 

We naturally had a little reception for it. You 
see, a calf is a new thing to us and we were proud 
of it, — her, — him, I mean. So one day as I 
was exhibiting it, — him — to several neighbors, 
he reached forward, caught hold of a button on 
my vest, just over the pit of my stomach, and 
mouthed it in the most cunning manner. I held 



THE CALF 163 

my breath so as not to scare it, and the ladies 
were in ecstasies. I did not hold my breath long, 
however, for suddenly the animal, with the nat- 
ural intent to increase the flow of milk, gave me 
a terrific bunt with its nose, in which all the weight 
of its body and all the convulsive power of its sud- 
denly stiffened legs were expended. 

All the breath in my body was expelled with 
such violence that I only regained it after a par- 
oxysm of hoarse gasps and startling hawks, 
which antics and involuntary inch-wormings, I 
am sorry to say, entertained my callers far more 
than the antics of the calf. 

When the calf was three weeks old, it had de- 
veloped speed of a race-horse quality and fre- 
quently dragged me about the premises with un- 
paralleled swiftness, and at the end of a stout 
rope. This was good exercise for both of us, 
and kept down the increasing flesh of over- 
maturity. 

One day, as I was coming from the ofl[ice, I 
saw the calf coming down the street from my 
premises at a wild gallop, flinging up his heels 
and dragging a long rope. I was not quick enough 
to head him off, but with rare presence of mind 
jumped with both feet on the rope as the animal 
shot by me like a flash of lightning. When I lit 
I was nearly a rod from the starting-place and 
on my head and shoulders. People who saw me 



164 FARMING IT 

in the air said I looked like a pinwheel, so rapid 
were my revolutions. 

I was mad ! Thoroughly mad ! Fighting mad ! 
I would catch that devilish calf if I burst some- 
thing; and I took up the running. 

Scientists say that the wild ass of the desert is 
the swiftest of all animals. Be it so ; but without 
desiring to institute any comparisons, I must ac- 
knowledge that a certain tame one developed the 
most astonishing burst of speed on Pine and Front 
Streets on that day that ever drew the attention 
of the sporting world. 

Round the corner of Pine and Front we went, 
I on one wheel and the calf heeling dangerously 
to leeward and with its keel half out of water. 

Righting ourselves, we flew along like Inter- 
national Cup winners. In front of the Seminary 
entrance, by terrific sprinting, I had nearly closed 
the gap between us. From the Seminary entrance 
to Tan Lane the calf drew away from me, as my 
spark-plug fell out or my carbureter failed to 
carburet. 

At the lower part of the Academy yard I was 
almost within reach of my opponent's rudder, 
but failed to grasp it. Suddenly he tacked abruptly 
into Elm Street, while I skidded to Conner's 
fence and ripped off a tire, but kept on with fran- 
tic gasping jumps. Just in front of the Unitarian 
Church I had made up my lost space, when the 




I WAS MAD! THOROUGHLY MAD! FIGHTING MAD! 



THE CALF 165 

calf suddenly stopped and we came together like 
two football tackles, amid a cloud of dust. I had 
run down my prize. 

As I slowly returned up Front Street, breath- 
less but triumphant, I received many laughing 
congratulations over my fleetness and determina- 
tion. Just as I was about to reenter my yard, 
I heard Daniel from his piazza across the way 
shout, " Say, old man, no end obliged to you for 
bringing back my calf. Saved me lots of trouble. 
Let the man hitch him in my barn, please." 

Sure enough, a glance showed my calf lying 
quietly under a tree, safely tethered to a crowbar, 
while I had chased his infernal calf over two 
miles at race-horse speed. In a sort of daze I 
handed the grinning man the rope, looked at my 
torn and dusty clothes, my shoe with the sole 
gone and my ruined hat. 

" Curse your calf!" I hissed, and limped pain- 
fully into my house. 




CHAPTER XIX 

AMATEUR THEATRICALS 

BELIEVE that a country town or 
neighborhood can receive no greater 
benefit than in the introduction of 
new blood. My brief experience as a 
farmer has taught me this, and my long experi- 
ence as a citizen of a country town has convinced 
me that in no way can a country community 
make good its loss of young men who have an 
ambition awakened in schools and colleges to 
go to larger communities, than by offering every 
possible inducement for young men and women 
to come in from other communities. 

For instance, if Ike Peterson's son Bill goes to 
Boston or New York or Seattle or Chicago, and 
becomes an active and influential member of the 
law firm of Strasser, Ellis & Co., our town has 
lost one who mioht have been a useful citizen. 
But if at about the time of Bill's departure, the 
junior member of the selfsame firm should, cu- 
riously enough, decide to quit the city for life 
on the farm, or amid semi-rural surroundings, 
and, more curiously still, should decide to be- 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 167 

come a free lance in the same community that 
Bill has quit, why then we ** break even," to use a 
sporting phrase, at least so far as number goes; 
but in reality we are better off, for we get a citi- 
zen with advanced ideas, imbued with the hus- 
tling spirit of city life, which cannot fail to have 
an influence for good on the small community. 
To be sure. New York or Seattle or Chicago or 
Boston has Bill, which we hope is a good thing 
for them and for Bill. But the effect of Bill's in- 
vasion is not immediate or in any way disturbing 
to the urban community. 

But if, instead of the junior partner of the 
firm, the young and zealous assistant pastor of 
one of the churches of Seattle or Chicago or Bos- 
ton or New York becomes pastor of the local 
Congregational or Baptist or Unitarian or Epis- 
copal Church, why then we go Chicago or Bos- 
ton or New York or Seattle '' one better," as the 
moral status of the community is jacked up much 
more effectively than that of Boston or New 
York or Seattle or Chicago is on account of Bill's 
arrival. 

By this means only is the professional, social, 
financial, and moral balance preserved. 

Now we have had accessions to our neighbor- 
hood. I disclaim modestly any responsibility 
for the fact, for the new neighbors would un- 
doubtedly have come had we not lived there. 



168 FARMING IT 

In fact, one of the neighbors came in spite of 
my repeated warnings, showing how little he 
cared for my opinion. 

It was in this way: one day a sturdy, stocky, 
auburn-haired (I am better acquainted with 
him now and call it red) young fellow came into 
my office, and wished to see me for a moment. 

I knew he was in no trouble, for he was too 
fresh and bright-looking. I knew by his well- 
bred, respectful manner that he was no book 
agent or seller of patented articles. 

So I willingly dropped whatever I had on hand, 
and invited him to the inner office. He showed 
his directness by coming at once to the point. 

" I am a doctor and wish to settle in your town. 
Is there a chance for me ? " 

"Mighty little, I'm afraid; there are Doctors 
Blank, Dash, and Hyphen, and Brackett, and 
Comma, and Colon, allopaths. Doctors Capital 
and Lowercase, homoeopaths, two college veteri- 
narians, half a dozen amateurs practising in vio- 
lation of law, and several old ladies without waist- 
lines who are popularly supposed to know more 
than all the doctors in a certain class of cases." 

"Gee!" replied the young man, "it don't look 
very promising, does it.^" 

"Not unless you are a good doctor and have 
money enough to wait," I replied. 

"Well," he said slowly, "I think I am a good 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 169 

doctor. At least I have been through a good deal 
of preparation. But as for money, I have enough 
to fit up a house and office, and wait perhaps 
six months. How many of these doctors own 
automobiles .^" 

"Three," I answered, "and the rest have 
horses." 

" Hm," he said, "that looks better. If they can 
all afford horses, I ought to be able to get along 
by walking or using a three-year-old bike." 

"Well," I said, "you might. But I think you 
had better try some other place. By the way, 
come to lunch with me and I will talk it over 
with you." 

"Thank you, no," he answered. "I am going 
to look the town over and see what I can of it 
before taking my train to Boston." And after 
offering a fee, which I declined, he thanked me 
and withdrew. 

I had nearly forgotten him when one day he 
returned, bringing with him a very attractive 
young lady whom he introduced. Although they 
were well-bred and consequently not in the least 
demonstrative, it was at once evident that they 
had more than a passing interest in each other. 

As before, he came to the point with his usual 
directness. *' Well, Mr. Shute, I have considered 
the matter of settling, and I have decided to come 
to Exeter." 



170 FARMING IT 

"Bully," I replied in the expressive slang of 
the period. "I think you are making a mistake, 
but I like your grit and I am glad you are com- 
ing; for Exeter, like all country places, needs 
new blood and new ideas. Now what are you 
going to do about quarters.^" 

"That 's just what I want to see you about," 
he said. 

"And it is the most important thing of all!" 

And I rapidly gave him the names of several 
places I thought he might get, among them an 
attractive little house not far from mine. 

The next day I found he had engaged that 
place, and a few days later he began to move in 
his furniture; but I saw nothing more of the 
young lady for a while. 

The other addition to the neighborhood came 
rather suddenly, for one day in the early fall, on 
returning to the oflSce, I saw in front of a neigh- 
boring house an immense van of household 
goods, an excited father, a helpless mother of a 
large family, a colored servant and six or seven 
children, watching with devouring interest two 
brawny policemen who were forcibly removing 
two very drunken draymen from the vicinity with 
prodigious exertion, in which catch-as-catch-can, 
Grseco-Roman, collar-and-elbow, hitch-and-trip, 
"side holts," grapevine twists, hammer-locks, 
cross-counters, straight lefts, jabs, upper-cuts, 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 171 

pivots, and other technical manoeuvres of the 
ring and mat alternated with one another in be- 
wildering rapidity, and a quality of language was 
being handed round that would chill the blood of 
a pirate. 

Now two men, however big, strong and willing, 
cannot readily, and without assistance, subdue, 
handcuff, and abduct two other men equally big, 
and, further, inspired by a mixture of wood-al- 
cohol, fusel oil and other powerful stimulants, 
known as curry-comb whiskey, even when the 
two first-named gentlemen are clothed in the 
majesty of the law, blue coats, brass buttons, and 
helmets that rest mainly on their spreading ears. 

And so, as a law-abiding citizen and a magis- 
trate, it was my duty to go to the assistance of 
my oflBcers and to deliver them from their ene- 
mies, which I did, without much enthusiasm, 
however; and with the assistance of a lusty 
peasant who came by in a farm-wagon, and the 
excited father of the family, we soon had the 
miscreants safely trussed and piled into the farm- 
wagon, which was pressed into service with the 
horse and the driver. 

This accomplished, and the prisoners having 
disappeared townwards amid a prodigious rat- 
tling of loose wagon-wheels and terrific blas- 
phemy of the chained, I turned my attention to 
my new neighbors. They were in a very un- 



172 FARMING IT 

pleasant predicament. Their entire household 
goods were in the van, including such supplies 
as were necessary for immediate use. Luckily it 
was warm weather, and their night's lodging 
depended upon their strength and ability to dis- 
entangle and reconstruct their household furni- 
ture, and night was coming on apace. 

There was but one thing to do, — to march 
them all over to my house, there to take pot-luck 
with us. 

I was a little more confident than usual in re- 
lation to pot-luck, for that morning I had sent 
home a particularly fine and large roast, and 
green corn and vegetables were abundant in my 
garden, and milk and eggs were always at hand. 

My wife and my children, who had arrived in 
time to see the closing rally when we "flopped," 
as Dick expressed it, the draymen, somewhat 
to his disgust, as he came just too late to take an 
active part in the struggle, added their eloquence, 
and we finally persuaded the entire family to 
accept our hospitality, and after a hearty supper, 
we set to work on their goods. 

How easy it is to work for other people when 
you are doing it out of neighborly good-feeling! 
How ingenuity is awakened that you thought you 
never possessed ! Beds were put together that in 
the annual spring-cleaning would have defied 
us. Stovepipes were fitted that under ordinary 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 173 

circumstances would have made a tinsmith be- 
come a gibbering maniac. Stoves were lifted 
and pushed into place that would have made 
Hercules' labors seem like basket-ball. 

By nine o'clock the beds were up, the carpets 
in place, but not tacked, the range drawing like 
a furnace, the yet unbroken crockery arranged 
on the shelves, pictures hung, and, what was 
best of all, we had become in those few short 
hours better acquainted with each and every 
member of the family than we would have been 
had they lived there for years ; and their opinion 
of our town, which had been steadily going 
down from the moment they left their old home, 
had mounted to a really undeserved height. 

Indeed, when at a late hour we dragged our 
tired legs upstairs to bed, we felt that we had 
really done something worth while, and realized 
how thoroughly we w^ould have appreciated a 
little attention of the sort when we entered an 
alien neighborhood. 

The next morning the entire family of chil- 
dren were over in time to see me milk the cow 
and rub down the horses, and as they had never 
seen anything of the kind before, I was com- 
pelled to answer about a thousand questions 
before they fully understood matters. 

Up to this time the neighborhood had been 
emphatically not a neighborhood of children, 



174 FARMING IT 

but rather a neighborhood of dignified elders, 
and the addition of a half dozen of irrepressibles 
did much to enliven things. To be sure their ad- 
vent was regarded by the neighborhood with 
mixed feelings, in which distrust was a predom- 
inating ingredient; but the neighborhood had 
successfully weathered our invasion, and as some 
of the most conservative said, "We have seen 
worse things, and have lived." 

All this time the young doctor had been paint- 
ing and papering his little cottage, impaling him- 
self on tacks and wire nails, abrading his shins 
against sharp corners, raking, mowing and sod- 
ding his lawn, and getting himself into very seri- 
ous complications indeed with paint and glue 
and oil and wax and adhesive paste, and lawn 
mowers that would n't mow and hammers the 
heads of which flew off and broke the chandeliers, 
and rakes which he stepped on and which flew 
up and hit him grievous blows on the brows, and 
faucets which he forgot to shut off and which 
leaked all over the front-room ceiling, which fell 
down on his head, and shut-offs that squirted 
ice-cold water up his sleeve and down his neck, 
and flat baskets of crockery and china over 
which he fell with terrific crashes and unexpur- 
gated oratory, and which he subsequently tried 
ineffectually to piece together with cementine 
and fish glue, and finally buried in the back yard. 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 175 

I admired and pitied the doctor and loaned 
him everything I could think of in the way of 
tools and supplies and cheerful comment and 
disinterested advice, and physical assistance in 
the way of personal services of myself, my wife 
and children, my horses and my cow and the 
stranger within my gate. 

I also introduced him to every one I could, and 
spoke of him as an eminent practitioner, and did 
every thing I could to advance his interests, with- 
out of course sacrificing my own. 

But the doctor, while working like a cart-horse 
in the dusty present, was living in the future. 
What if his hands were blistered and grimy, his 
hat dusty and dented, his trousers, once immacu- 
lately creased, worn to transparency at the knees, 
his lungs clogged with dust, his throat hoarse 
with powdered plaster, cellar-damp and the 
raucous hissing out of anathemas on various 
things, he was happy, because he was working 
for some one. 

His preparations advanced toward the goal of 
completion, and the doctor announced a vaca- 
tion for a week, after which he would bring the 
attractive young lady to visit her new home be- 
fore the wedding-day arrived. Upon this we 
promptly asked him to bring her to our house, but 
found that our neighbor Daniel had stolen a 
march on us. We contented ourselves with find- 



176 FARMING IT 

ing out from the doctor the exact day of her visit, 
and began to lay plans to make her introduction 
to her new neighbors memorable. 

So I called a meeting of the neighborhood at 
my house for a certain evening, and to make it 
more interesting provided refreshments which 
included strong coffee, as the affair was weighty 
and of great importance. The two delightful old 
ladies arrived, escorted by their servant, who 
delivered them into my charge with a good deal 
of formality, during which I bowed over their 
mitted hands until I felt my backbone creak and 
then gave them my arm up the steps, while they 
smiled and turned out their toes gracefully as they 
minced up the path. 

The two old gentlemen arrived with somewhat 
rusty but perfectly proper black coats of a variety 
of basket-cloth popular in the early seventies, 
double-breasted and with narrow shoulders, and 
they bowed with fine old-fashioned courtesy to 
the ladies, and sat upright in the stiffest-backed 
chairs they could find. Daniel rolled in with a 
jolly joke which delighted the old ladies, with 
whom he was a prime favorite. 

After the company had gathered, the nature of 
the business was disclosed and a great variety 
of suggestions was offered. Daniel suggested the 
purchase of a small, handsome and safe horse 
and phaeton ; the generosity of which proposal 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 177 

filled us with admiration, while its probable ex- 
pense appalled us, and his proposal was rejected 
with few dissenting voices, among which Dan- 
iel's was the loudest. 

The Professor opined that a handsome dinner- 
set would always be appreciated. Tlie neigh- 
bors all agreed to this, but as prevailing opinion 
appeared to be in favor of doing something orig- 
inal, the proposal was voted down, with apolo- 
gies to the Professor. The two old ladies thought 
an old-fashioned sideboard or highboy would be 
a good thing. We all concurred in this with great 
enthusiasm, but as nobody present was willing 
to sacrifice his antique furniture, and as the en- 
tire crowd were in a state of deep financial de- 
pression, the idea was abandoned. 

Cut glass was beyond our means, silverware 
out of date, if not ditto, tin and wooden more 
suitable to our station in life, and so we decided 
on tin, wood, leather, zinc, and brass. 

How to give them ? was the next question. 
This caused great discussion, in which all mem- 
bers took an active part. 

One of the old-fashioned gentlemen, however, 
made a tremendous hit with his speech. Draw- 
ing himself up to his full height and placing one 
hand on his hip and flourishing his pince-nez 
with the other he thus addressed us : — 

"Fellow citizens, — ah, friends and neighbors, 



178 FARMING IT 

the felicitous — ah, nature of the coming event, 
which casts, not shadows — ah, but radiant arrows 
from Cupid's bow," (great enthusiasm and ap- 
plause), " is the r-r-r-rgmm, little touch of nature 
that maketh the whole world kin — ah, (applause) 
the hope — ah, of posterity — ah, inherent in the 
breast of man — ah, (deep blushes mantled the 
cheeks of the old maiden ladies) make it incum- 
bent upon us — ah, (violent tugs at his coat-tail by 
the other old gentleman) to celebrate this happy — 
ah, event in a somewhat unusual — ah, way. I 
beg leave to move that some happy — ah, repre- 
sentation, such as a play, be written by some — ah, 
talented member of our body-corporate — ah, and 
be produced at some — ah, favorable time, when 
all could take part." (Terrific enthusiasm; pro- 
longed and violent applause.) 

A play, that was just what we wanted. We 
would have it a bucolic play, because we were a 
neighborhood of farmers, by avocation at least, 
and she was from the city, and should learn to 
take us as we were. 

We almost forgot our refreshments, so inter- 
ested were we in planning details, appointing 
committees, assigning parts in advance, without 
in the least knowing what the play was to be. 
Finally, after prodigious discussion, and huge 
consumption of fruit-punch, coffee and sand- 
wiches, we decided to purchase a quantity of 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 179 

kitchen-ware of wood, iron, and tin, and I w^as 
ordered, under terrific penalties, to produce a 
play deftly woven round these homely articles, 
having for its scene some rural forum such as 
the country store, the post office, the town-'us or 
the school-'us. 

The evening came, the neighbors arrived. 
There was the hurried moving of stage props, a 
terrific hammering behind the curtain, calls for 
hammers, nails, and laths, entreaties to "get off 
my head!" sarcastic reminders to "kindly step 
off my fingers"; queries as to "where are you 
going with my step-ladder ?" and "who had the 
rouge last ?" mingled with occasional and fearful 
crashes as hurrying people with stage furniture 
collided, and a general alarm when the curtain 
suddenly blazed up from a careless candle. 

In front of the curtain chairs were being ar- 
ranged in convergent rows. Rocking-chairs, 
leather-backed chairs, lounging chairs, dining- 
room chairs, kitchen, old derelicts from the attic, 
splint-seated from the store room, and every kind 
and nature of hassock and footstool. People were 
arriving and greeting one another in shouts, the 
noise behind the curtain being such as to render 
communication in the ordinary tone of voice 
impossible. Finally, the uproar ceased and the 
hoarse tones of the stage-manager subdued to a 
husky but perfectly audible whisper were heard 



180 FARMING IT 

to order every one off the stage but the stage 
people, for the curtain was *'goin' up in about 
three seconds." 

There was a scurrying and giggling, a heavy 
fall and a burst of half-stifled laughter, and then 
the curtain rose very jerkily and disclosed : — 

Scene : A Country Store. 

[Counter, hams, rubber-boots, wooden pails hanging from 
the ceiling, advertisements tacked to the walls, stenciled 
adv., etc.y steel traps, sign, 

W. I. Goods and Groceries 

Timothy G. Seed 

[Within, Mr. Seed, in linen duster, brimless straw hat, 
leather boots with trousers tucked into the legs, chin- 
whiskers and rich brown wig, is busy chasing the cJieese 
back into the cage. 

Mr. Seed. — Dang this 'ere pesky cheese, 's alius gittin' 
aout a' skally hootin' raoun' rite afore customers. Seems 
so the old scratch was in the cussid stuff. {Thumps cheese 
with pork-barrel stick.) Thar, dum ye, guess naow ye air 
stunted, ye '11 lay quiet awhile. Ezry! Ezry! whar is that 
dumbed worthless boy, Ezry! 

[Enter Ezra : boy, jumper, shortish overalls, one suspender 
fastened with a nail, boots turned over at the heel, clwwing 
and swallowing something. 

Thar ye go, alius eatin' suthin'. Been at them dried apples 
agen.^ 'Fi ketch ye eatin' any more dried apples, I'll skin 
ye alive. It's a wonder they don't swell up 'n' bust ye. 
Hev ye sanded the sugar, Ezry ? 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 181 

Ezra. — Yessir. 

Seed. — Hev ye watered the milk ? 

Ezra. — Yessir. 

Seed. — Hev ye counted over the coffee ? 

Ezra. — Yessir. 

Seed. — Hev ye aired the salt fish ? 

Ezra. — Yessir. 

Seed. — Hev ye giv the butter a good combin' ? 

Ezra. — Yessir. 

Seed. — All rite, then ; I want ye to go daun to Ruta J. 
Bagas and tell him we draw the line on eggs that have been 
set on fer nineteen days. When eggs peep so's everybody 
can hear 'em it spiles the sale, 'n' we hev to use 'em to hum. 
Stop at old Miss Grandiflora's 'n' tell her we got some o' 
that cookin' butter that 's a little spiled, but good enough 
for a church sociable. 

[Exit Ezra, whistling ; Mr. Seed goes to desk and begins 
to charge up items. 

Seed. — Pumpkin J. Radish, two pounds butter. That 
butter 's a little spiled, but Pump 's used snuff so long that 
he hain't got no taste 'n' can't tell the difference, so Pump 
gitS charged full price. Hardy P. Shrubb, half peck o' 
potatoes, half pound o' cheese. Lessee, wuz it the jumpy 
kind, or the deef 'n' dumb kind. Oh, yes, I remember 
Hardy, he sez it got away from him on the way hum 'n' 
got away into the bushes. I forgot to stunt it afore he tuk 
it away. 

[Enter Temperance S. Rhubarb. Angular female, with 
Paisley shawl, specs, mitts and beaded reticule. 

Seed. — Howdy, Miss Rhubarb : nice day. What kin 



182 FARMING IT 

I dew for ye to-day ? Got some nice bombazine jest in. 
Right from East Rochester ; think ye 'd like it. 

Temp. — No, thank you, Mr. Seed, I 'm on a very dif- 
ferent arrent to-day. (Giggles girlishly.) I want to buy a 
weddin' present. 

Seed. — Ye don't say so. Ye beant goin' ter git married, 
be ye. Miss Temperance ? 

Temp, {bridling). — Well, I'm sure I don't know why 
not if I wanted to. 

Seed {hurriedly). — No reason 't all. Miss Temperance; 
ye might hev hed all the young fellers here if ye'd wanted 
'em. 

Temp. — Ye know I hed my bereavement. {Wipes eyes.) 

Seed. — Yes. {Sighs heavily.) 

Temp. — Now what ye got cheap in wooden goods ? 

Seed. — Got a nice choppin' block off that big ellum 
tree. 

Temp. — Well ; the idea — choppin' block ! Guess he 's 
thinkin' 'baout suthin' besides choppin' wood. 

Seed. — That's what he'll be doin' for the rist of his born 
days. Sometimes it's a mighty 'scape- valve for the feelin's 
when company 's raoun 'n' ye don't take it aout in cussin'. 

Temp. — Well, I guess these two won't ever feel that 
way. They are just tew little love-birds. It's beautiful to 
see them. {Clasps hands ecstatically.) 

Seed. — Shaw, they'll fight sure. Love-birds is the cross- 
est critters I ever see. They screech and fight like tarnation 
cats. I had tew onct. Set on the roost with their heads 
close together. Well, they screeched, 'n' fit, till one killed 
'n' et t'other. 

Temp. — Well, this couple is different. So lovin' and 
trustin' ! 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 183 

Seed. — What yer say tu spoons. Seems thet's what 
they be. 

Temp. — Just the things. Two lovely wooden spoons. 
Show me the best and cheapest. {Opens reticule.) 

Seed (diving into corner, finds spoons with difficulty, 
dusts them, blows on them, and wipes them on his trousers) . 
— There, ye kin hit an awful lick with one of them. When 
them tew love-birds gits inter a scrap it's a good thing to 
hev suthin' handy. 

Temp, (scornfully). — I wouldn't be sinnatin' sich 
things. Ennyway, I'll take these two. 

Seed (sarcastically). — One '11 be cheaper, and them 
love-birds kin eat outer one, (aside) for a while. 

Temp. — Thanks. Five cents. (Pays, perks, and de^ 
parts.) 

Seed (peering from window, soliloquizing) . — Well, here 
comes old Hen Peck'n' his wife, drivin'. Well, Hen he was 
a love-bird onct. Don't look like it naou. 'Member how 
tarnal soft they wuz ; et from the same plate at sociables, 
'n' drinked from the same glass at picnics, 'n' naou old Mis' 
Peck won't let poor old Hen set to the table, 'xcept when 
they is company. 

Hen Peck (entering) . — Howdy, Tim. 

Seed. — Howdy, Hen. Pretty good day for the time of 
the year. What yer goin' to buy to-day.^ 

Hen. — Nothin' much. Want some kind of a weddin' 
present. Suthin' cheap. 

Seed. — Won't Mis' Peck come in ? 

Hen. — No, she 's bad with the rheumatiz. 

Seed. — What kind of a present do ye want ? 

Hen. — Wall, rat pizen er Paris green's the best thing 
for both on 'em. 



184 FARMING IT 

Seed. — Shaw, don't talk so, Hen. 'Member you'n' 
M'randy wuz love-birds onct. 'Member haou ye used to 
drink from the same glass 'n' eat from the same — 

Hen. — Shet up, Tim ! I swanny, wuz I sech a dummed 
fool ez that ? Look at me naou Do I look like a love-bird ? 

Seed. — Not much, Hen. Wall, what kind of a present 
d' ye want ? 

Hen. — Suthin' cheap. Wooden ware, M'randy said. 

Seed. — How 'd a rollin'-pin do ? 

Hen. — Jist the thing. Ye can hit a almighty tunk with 
it. Sometimes seems 's if I could knock M'randy's head 
off'n her. But she alius gits it first. 

Voice from without. — Henry Peck, be ye goin 't' get that 
present or beent ye.^ I don't want to haf tu speak t' ye 
twict. 

Hen. — Yes, my dear, comin'. For the land sake, don't 
be so tarnal slow, Tim. Ten cents; don't wrap it up. 
Comin', M'randy, comin', my dear. {Exit hurriedly.) 

Seed. — Poor Hen ! M'randy was a likely critter, too. 
She kind of took a shine to me 'fore Hen begun to set up 
with her. Sometimes, I almost think she was kind of dis- 
appinted in Hen. Naou 'f it 'ad been me, M'randy 'd — 
Hellow ! There goes that pesky cheese agen. Hi tha ! shoo ! 
(Jumps up and chases the cheese hack to its cage and strikes 
it with butt end of butter knife.) Well, I 've got to put some 
chloride of lime on that salt fish. {Sprinkles fish.) 

[Enter Pansie J. Pink and August Sweeting. 

Seed. — Well, Pansie, you look ez pretty ez a Baldwin 
apple. Ain't thet so, August ? 

August. — You bet, Tim. I 'm goin' t' buy suthin' for 
a friend of mine who is goin' to be married, 'n' I jest bet 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 185 

Pans '11 git suthin' good. I got two dollars 'n eighty cents, 
'n' I don't keer fer no expense nor nothin'. 

Pansie {very modestly) . — How much are bread-boards ? 

August. — Bread-boards nothin'. Pans ; git 'em some 
napkin-rings or a pipe, or pen-wiper, er suthin' useful. 

Pansie. — I want them to keep what I give them, and 
use it too, and I don't know anything more useful than a 
good bread-board. I'll buy a bread-board and you can buy 
whatever you want. How much is this bread-board, Mr. 
Seed? 

Seed. — Twenty-five cents, Pansie, and it '11 wear- 
Sound 'n' solid, just like you, Pansie. Hope I '11 hear about 
your gettin' married soon, Pansie. 

Pansie {with a 1^-carat, three-ply, home-made blush). — 
Oh, thank you, Mr. Seed, I guess you need n't fear that 
of me. {Pays and exit.) 

Seed. — Whot's the matter with you young fellers, August, 
lettin' that gal escape ? Where 's yer eyes ? 

August. — Dumpy, not my style. A feller likes a girl 
with a little go, a little style. One ye know that can trot 
in quick time. Naou thet bread-board shows just what she 
is. Fancy a girl with any go to her giving a bread-board 
for a weddin' present. Naou, I don't 'ntend to spare no 
expense, but I want suthin' stylish. Naou, a feller likes a 
good pipe. A good briarwood. That one '11 do. Twenty 
cents ? All right. Kinder high for a briarwood, but I never 
consider expense when I buy weddin' presents. Naou the 
picter. Naou that's style, that's finish, thet there picter 
means suthin'. {Handles with the appreciation of a con- 
noisseur the most frightful print imaginable. Buys print.) 
There, bread-board be hanged ; I like some style to a pres- 
ent. When I get ready to settle down it '11 be with some one 



186 FARMING IT 

with some style, but a fellow must have his little fling first, 
and there 's nothin' like being up to date. {Goes out whis- 
tling "Shoo Fly," stops and hows profoundly as Mrs. 
Grandiflora enters) There, that's what I call style. 
{Aside.) 

Mrs. Grandiflora (in hat of terrific size, flamboyant with 

feathers, and ribbons in three different shades of red; yellow 

parasol, and lorgnette made of eye-glasses lashed to tip of 

bamboo fishing-rod; purple dress, if possible). — Well, good 

afternoon, Mr. Seed. 

Seed {coming from behind the counter, dusts chair, places 
it with profound bow). — Good afternoon, Mrs. Grandi- 
flora. 

Mrs. G. {seats herself raises lorgnette to her eyes) . — 
Have you heard of the new engagement ? 

Seed. — There beant another, be they.^ 'Cause 'f there 
be, I 'm goin' to lay in a new stock of wooden ware. 

Mrs. G. — No, no new one, but such sweet things as they 
are, and so well suited to each other. You know Pope says, 

**Maii is the ragged loafing pine. 
Woman the gentle jimson vine. 
Whose scalping tendrils round him twine." 

But he 's real smart, and she 's just like a jimson vine, just 
clasping him every chance she can get. Ain't Pope just 
too sweet for anything ? I do enjoy Pope and Bridewell and 
McAuley. McAuley is just divine, and it was so strange 
that he should become a prize-fighter afterwards. But, then, 
literary people are queer just like musicians. There was 
Sullivan, you know, the prize-fighter, who wrote the most 
beautiful song about some poor organ-player sitting play- 
ing his organ one night, and someone came along and 




HAVE YOU READ "THE SIMPLE LIFE" BY WAGNER? 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 187 

stole a whole load of wood. He had just bought a cord of 
it, and, poor man, he lost it all and he hunted but never 
could find it. But poor man, he never lost hope and stuck 
to it to the last that he would see that cord again. I hope 
he did, poor man. But about this wedding, — I do want 
to buy something real simple. I do like simple things. 
There are some people who want showy clothes and who 
love to make a show, but I say, give me quiet tastes and 
literary ability and I don't want nothin' else. When you 
see flash people drivin' by in their stylish coops and but- 
lers on the front seats, I say to myself, " Volumina Grandi- 
flora, don't you never fret yourself one bit; ain't it better 
to be able to talk grammary and to be allitery than to 
make a show ?" No, say I, you can have your butlers and 
your rubber- wheeled carriages and your tigers, if you want 
'em, though I never happened to see any tigers, although 
I looked for them time and time again, and never see any- 
thing more 'n some of them spotted damnation dogs. 
P'raps them is what they meant. Have you read the 
" Simple Life" by Wagner ? You know Wagner, of course, 
the man who wrote Mendelssohn's Wedding March. I 
thought I would read it and it would give me some idea of 
what is the latest thing to do at weddings. Well, about that 
present, — a good broom, one of those quiet shiny ones 
with a red label. Send it up, please. {Rises and departs, 
while Seed, with his hand to his head, staggers to his desk 
and begins charging up various articles to John L. Sullivan 
and Wagner Dryden.) 

[Enter Miss Mulli Grubbe and Old Lady Snapdragon. 
Black shawls tightly wrapped across their chests — red 
noses — black lace-mitts with fingers gone — small black 
straw hats or bonnets — very erect. 



188 FARMING IT 

Mr. Seed. — Good arternoon, ladies. 

The ladies (forbiddingly) . — Day, sir. 

Seed (affably but somewhat apprehensively) . — What can 
I show you to-day? 

Old Lady Snapdragon (who is deaf, to Miss Grubbe) . — 
What did the old fool say.'^ 

Miss Mulli Grubbe. — He wants to know what he can 
show us. 

Old Lady Snapdragon. — Tell him if we want anything 
we will tell him. 

Seed (aside) . — I '11 show 'em the door for two. cents. 

3Iiss Grubbe. — What's that ? 

Seed. — Nothin', madam, talking to myself. 

Miss Grubbe. — They dew say people do that ez they 
grow old. 

Seed (aside) . — She ought to know. 

Miss Grubbe. — What 's that ? 

Old Lady Snapdragon. — What does he say ? 

Seed (bellowing) . — Nothin', madam. 

Old Lady Snapdragon. — That's whot he's been doin' 
all his life, talkin' 'n sayin' nothin', but's the first time I 
ever knowed him t' acknowledge it. 

Miss Grubbe. — What 's the price of ironin' boards ? 

Seed. — Fifteen cents if you want 'em to lay people out 
on, because you can return 'em. Fifty cents if you want 
'em to iron on, 'cause we don't take 'em back. 

Old Lady Snapdragon. — What 's he say ? 

Miss Grubbe. — Fifteen cents for corpses and fifty cents 
for live people. 

Seed (aside) . — If you want 'em for the old lady and will 
use 'em, I give ye one. 

Miss Grubbe. — Give me a new fifty-cent one. 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 189 

Old Lady Snapdragon. — Can't yer let us have a corpse 
one that has been returned two or three times, for twenty 
cents ? They 'd never know the difference. 

Seed (bellowing). — No, madam; the last one was re- 
turned from a man who had bronical bronchitis, and that 's 
ketchin' as thunder. 

(Pay grumpily and exeunt.) 

[Enter Hungaria N. Grass, her husband. Oat Grass, 
local Justice of the Peace, and Johnny Jump Up, son of 
Hungaria, a little red-headed boy. 

Johnny. — O Ma, want stick er candy. Can I have it, 

can I, Ma ? an' some juju paste ; can I, Ma ? You said I 

could. 

[Pulls down barrel of brooms, which in turn brings down 
tin boiler, lamp and otJier things. Hungaria picks up 
Johnny, boxes his ears soundly, and hands him over to 
Oat Grass, who larrups him with his cane. Where- 
upon Hungaria relents, pushes Oat Grass into an open 
barrel, where he sticks. She clasps Johnny to her bosom 
and pats his head. Seed pulls Oat Grass /row the bar- 
rel with difficulty just as Poppy Grass, their daughter, 
enters. 
Poppy {short dress, bead necklace, hair in two pig-tails, 

chewing gum and talking as she chews) . — Say, Ma, I 

want some candy, too. Johnny got some, can't I, Ma ? 

[General discussion between members of the family before 
the matter is finally adjusted by giving her what she 
wants. While the children are quieted, Hungaria asks 
the price of a chopping-tray .] 
Oat Grass. — Jest the thing, Hungaria, most convenient 

things I ever saw. We kin chop up mince- meat, 's neat 's 



190 FARMING IT 

you please, and then mix up a mess of chicken-feed in it, 
and sometime mighty convenient when we can't find the 
dust-pan. Tell yer, Timothy, Hungaria is a master-hand 
to make things go a long distance. Don't know what we 
ain't used that er choppin'-tray for. 

Hungaria {who has vainly tried to stop him) . 'T is no 

such thing. Oat Grass, and you know it. They ain't a 

neater housekeeper round, than I be. 

[Poppy tries to dispossess Johnny of his stick of candy, and 

the result is a mixup and the children are torn apart by 

their parents, shaken and set down hard on opposite sides 

of the store, where they make up faces at their parents and 

each other. 

Hungaria. — Be you goin' to the weddin', Mr. Seed ? 
We be. It's jest too nice for anything to see young people 
get married. I only hope they'll be as happy ez we be. 
We've lived together for seventeen years 'thout never havin' 
a cross word and if I dew say it, nobody ever had tew such 
angel children as ours. 

[Terrific crash heard as Poppy pushes Johnny's chair hack- 
ward and general mixup results. After this is quelled, 
chopping tray is bought, paid for, and parents depart, 
much to Timothy's relief 

Timothy {soliloquizing). — Well, if that's their idea 
of happiness, believe I'd rather be an old bach. 

Curtain. 

The play was very successful, the parts being 
acted in a perfectly killing manner. 

The older of the two old gentlemen took the 
part of Seed, and a professional could not have; 
surpassed him. One of the old ladies was Tern- 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 191 

perance Rhubarb, and her smiles, smirks, gig- 
gles, Paisley shawl, and tiny jointed-parasol, 
nearly killed the audience, as did the stunning 
get-up of Daniel's wife as Mrs. Grandiflora. 

The Professor's wife as old Lady Snapdragon, 
and the new neighbor's wife as Miss Mulli 
Grubbe, caused us to hold our sides, while Dan- 
iel, the Professor, and the other old gentlemen, 
sitting on cracker-barrels and discussing rural 
affairs, kept the actors in giggles all the even- 
ing- 
After the play Daniel and his wife, according 

to agreement, secured the doctor and the young 
lady, who were their guests for the evening, bade 
us good-night and departed homewards, amid 
our loud protests and entreaties to remain. Then 
the surprise of the evening was worked. From 
the attic, days before, I had resurrected a long- 
disused but able-bodied tuba, had oiled its rusty 
valves and had practised hoarse harmony until 
my lips were swollen to sponges. With Dick on an 
astonishingly shrill E-flat clarinet, one of the old 
gentlemen on a fife, the new neighbor on a trom- 
bone, on which, by the way, he was a one-time 
expert, the Professor on a bass-drum, my daugh- 
ter on the snare, and the other old gentleman as 
drum-major, we at once headed a procession down 
the street, followed by all the guests bearing their 
purchases. We countermarched, and, playing 



192 FARMING IT 

the Wedding March from Lohengrin, fortissimo 
and at double time, marched into Daniel's house 
and down the broad hall, where, to the great con- 
fusion and amazement of the doctor and the 
young lady, we presented the entire lot of ware, 
in sections, and with oratory, to the young cou- 
ple. They recovered promptly from their em- 
barrassment, and it was a late hour when we left 
Daniel's weary with well-doing and sated with 
good cheer. 

When an entire neighborhood winds up an 
evening with old fashioned square and contra- 
dances, with pigeon-wings, Kensington balances 
and waist-swings; when a gentleman of three 
hundred pounds' weight goes down the centre 
with a maiden lady of seventy-eight, like a lithe 
youth of eighteen with a young matron of twenty- 
eight, and when two aged but courtly bachelors 
give an exhibition of ante-bellum dancing that 
would astonish a modern Papanti, one can read- 
ily conclude that performers and spectators are 
keyed to the highest pitch of enjoyment. 

Indeed, the play and the dance were so enjoy- 
able that the evening was but a precursor of many 
other evenings of similar enjoyment; and before 
the week was past a meeting was held at the old 
gentleman's house and an association formed 
known as the "Masque Club," in which plays 
are recited periodically, with the book and with 




DANCING THAT WOULD ASTONISH A MODERN PAPANTI 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS 193 

no further preparation than one reading; and 
the talent that had lain dormant for many years 
in that neighborhood has been awakened to life, 
and wields a vast influence in the welfare and en- 
joyment of the local populace. 




CHAPTER XX 

PARTING WITH POLLY 

HAVE sold Polly, Polly, my only and 
favorite saddle-mare ; Polly, my quick- 
stepping, nervy, nervous-driving mare ; 
Polly, who would take the bit between 
her teeth and pull double the moment my leg 
crossed the saddle, and yet would trot as gently 
and quietly as an ambling palfrey with my small 
daughter astride; Polly, who would occasionally 
come home with fence-posts or the foundations 
of buildings hitched to her neck, and who on 
one occasion dove bodily through the barn-door 
when in one of her hasty returns she found the 
portal closed ; Polly, who ran three miles with me 
one day when I lost my temper and struck her 
with the whip. I have sold her, and I feel like a 
penurious old malefactor. 

It was Daniel who got me into the scrape. 
Daniel has a theory, which he expounds to every 
one, that a farmer ought to sell his products 
when there is a market for them and when they 
are ripe. "For instance," says Daniel, "it's a 
mighty dangerous thing to hold staple, but per- 



PARTING WITH POLLY 195 

ishable articles for a rise in price. Take apples 
and potatoes. Why, in nine cases out of ten the 
farmer who holds his apples and potatoes over 
the cold months for a high price, and gets $2.70 
for apples as against $1.80 per bbl., or one dollar 
for potatoes as against seventy cents per bushel, 
finds, when he has picked out and thrown away 
the rotten and punky ones that he has n't a quar- 
ter part left. 

" It 's so in live-stock. Never keep a cow a day 
beyond her prime even if she has n't fallen off a 
bit, but is milking full. Never keep a hen the sec- 
ond season if you wish for eggs. And above all 
never keep a horse beyond the age of twelve, or 
perhaps it would be better never to keep a horse 
more than three or four years, whatever the age." 

"But, Daniel," I said, "it takes a year or two 
to get thoroughly accustomed to a horse, and to 
get the horse thoroughly accustomed to you. And 
after you have had a horse three or four years, it 
is at its best as far as you are concerned, and if 
it is a good horse you just feel as if you could n't 
drive any other horse." 

"Just the point, boy, just the point," replied 
Daniel, removing his cigar and flicking a long 
cone of ash from its tip with his little finger. 
"When a man gets feeling that he can't drive 
any other horse, it is about time for him to try." 

"Well," I replied, "it seems to me that there 



196 FARMING IT 

ought to be room for some little sentiment in the 
matter." 

"Sentiment!" sniffed that hard, cynical, bitter 
man of the world ; " the longer I live the less I be- 
lieve in sentiment where business is concerned. 
When a man is so beset with sentiment that he 
can't sell a horse or cow or dog or hen without 
feeling that he has outraged affection and senti- 
ment, he had better retire from business and keep 
a hospital for broken-down pets." 

Now, even while this stony-hearted neighbor 
was giving expression to such dreadful beliefs, I 
sat looking across the street towards his spa- 
cious and sunny yard. By the side of the stable 
dozed an old white horse, so aged that no true 
veterinarian could guess within a decade of its 
age. A horse that was a veritable heirloom in the 
family, and which I vaguely remembered forty 
years ago to have been a blue roan. Daniel him- 
self had learned, as a very small boy in round- 
abouts, to ride and drive him. Daniel's father, 
long dead, may have done the same. Daniel's 
two boys fifteen years ago discarded him as too 
slow for their infant ideas, since which time he 
had been an honorable pensioner on Daniel, and 
a very expensive one, too ; for every time he did 
not eat his porridge, a veterinarian from a neigh- 
boring city was sent for and ordered to spare no 
expense in making Old Tom comfortable. 



PARTING WITH POLLY 197 

A hideously distended, half-blind, rheumatic 
and stiff-legged spaniel, with the hair completely 
gone from its once feathery tail, lay asthmatically 
wheezing on the steps ; while a really prehistoric 
English bull-dog, so old and fat that he was a 
marvel to look at, lay at the barn door; both of 
which animals contributed to the support of the 
veterinarian. 

And when I reflected that in his own stable 
were two cows, neither of which had given milk 
or had a calf for over a dozen years, and were 
worthy contemporaries of Old Tom and the 
canine Methuselahs, I mentioned these facts to 
Daniel, expecting to crush him to the earth, 
like Truth, with the weight of my facts, but not 
expecting him, like Truth, to rise again. 

But Daniel, like a sturdy old patriarch, never 
blinked an eye. "Just the point, boy, just the 
point. I suppose those infernal old torments 
have cost me half of what my place is worth. But 
what can a man do ? They are members of my 
family, human beings, sir ! But don't ever be as 
big a fool as I have been." 

Now Daniel, fond as he is of a horse or cow 
trade, would n't have sold or traded any one of 
those old pensioners to have saved his own life. 
But his advice was sound, and the more I thought 
of it, the sounder it appeared. I had bought 
Polly five years before, when she was broken for 



198 FARMING IT 

double harness only, and I had with great pains 
made her the best driving horse I ever owned. 

As a saddler she had a quick sharp trot that 
one could sit as easily, almost, as a single-foot. 
This she could keep up mile after mile, and tire 
out any of the trained saddlers in town. 

She had faults. She was somewhat hard- 
bitted, very sensitive to ill-treatment, afraid of 
nothing but firearms and the whip, and would 
not stand with anything but a neck-hitch, and 
occasionally, as I have said, brought home a 
stone post, or a fence-rail, or part of a barn, when 
the neck-hitch was stronger than the particular 
real estate to which she was attached. 

And so I sold Polly. Sold her for twice what I 
had given for her five years before. Sold her 
without any warranty and after full explanations 
of her failings. Sold her and took my blood- 
money and went home. 

It took me a full hour to break the news to my 
wife. It took her a much less time to give me her 
opinion of the transaction. I represented the 
facts with judicial calmness, and cited Daniel as 
authority for my position. I am glad Daniel did 
not hear what she said about him. Its brevity 
was no measure of its completeness. 

My daughter began to cry, and my son left the 
table in a huff and banged the door. There are 
few sounds more disquieting to one's nerves than 



PARTING WITH POLLY 199 

the more or less justifiable banging of a door 
when one has done wrong and knows it. 

Then I tried unblushing bribery. Neither my 
wife nor my daughter would have any of it. 

Then I went down town and sought the pur- 
chaser. He had left town. I sat down and wrote 
him, explaining the circumstances. It was a 
dreary two days at home before I got his letter. 
Then it was drearier, for the letter explained that 
he had bought the mare to mate up a pair for a 
Boston man, and had delivered her the day before. 
He very kindly sent me the address, and I lost no 
time in writing the Boston man. 

His reply I received after a few days. He did 
not care to sell, as he had the best pair of driving 
horses in Boston. If I cared to call some day he 
would be pleased to show me what they could 
do, and he remained, "Very truly," etc. 

It seemed to me that I had got myself into a 
very serious scrape indeed, especially as the 
clouds hung very thick over my homestead. 

With a part of the price of my treason I bought 
a new rubber trimmed driving harness, with 
which I decorated Lady M. And I also had the 
Concord painted and varnished. 

My wife had long urged the purchase of a new 
harness, and I thought the double outlay might 
soften her just resentment, but it had absolutely 
the opposite effect. She refused to ride behind 



200 FARMING IT 

Lady M., although that animal was a very fair 
roadster and handsome. 

I never drove Lady M. but I missed Polly's 
quick sharp trot, her pull on the lines, the smooth 
play of her shoulders, the alert pricked ears, and 
the regular allegro of her light hoofs. 

A few weeks after this I read of an accident 
in a Boston suburb, where a pair of sorrel horses 
belonging to a Mr. Lee became frightened at 
a steam-roller and ran away, overturning the 
carriage and severely injuring their driver. The 
account gave the name of the owner and driver, 
and sure enough it was the Boston man who had 
bought Polly. I wrote him reminding him of my 
offer, and received a note from his secretary in- 
forming me that both horses had been sent to a 
sale stable and I could communicate with the 
proprietor. 

The next day I went to Boston, but was again 
too late. Both horses had been sold to a stranger 
who paid cash and did not give his name. 

Then I gave up the chase and resolved to think 
no more of Polly, but to do my best to reestab- 
lish my reputation in my homestead. 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 




HE neighborhood to which I had moved 
was regarded by those long resident 
there as one of the finest and most 

exclusive in the town. The houses 

were large and well-kept, the lawns green and 
trim, and the grounds spacious. It was pecul- 
iar in having a number of very lofty and fine 
pine trees growing amid a profusion of elms 
and oaks. This distinction added much to the 
pride and exclusiveness of the residents, and in 
fact set them apart from other men. In short, 
the neighborhood fairly exhaled pride and satis- 
faction, and not without reason ; and when we 
entered its charmed and sacred precincts we felt 
that we were personoe non gratce. 

Such things do not bother me very much, but 
they affect my wife's peace of mind exceedingly, 
who, poor woman, has found in me a very serious 
handicap to her social aspirations. It is difficult 
for conservative and semi-bucolic village society 
to clasp to its bosom with any open show of affec- 
tion one who views village neighbors and village 
life with amusement. 



202 FARMING IT 

Indeed, in the Greek Quarter of the town in 
which I had spent five happy and amusing years, 
I was viewed w^ith the utmost suspicion and my 
wife pitied, because I had committed the entire 
neighborhood to print, and had made them sever- 
ally, and, according to the sale of the book, more 
or less, immortal. And when we moved from that 
delightful neighborhood we realized that our de- 
parture did not affect the price of real estate to 
any marked degree. 

In the next neighborhood where we spent a 
year, we were not over-popular, because we had 
long outgrown the cabinet-organ and plush- 
album stage, and did not regard the cuspidore 
as a household necessity ; nor did I aspire to oc- 
cupy any of the chairs in the many lodges and 
secret orders with which the face of our beloved 
village was thickly speckled. 

And so, when I moved to the farm, I made up 
my mind to view men and things with a more 
serious eye, and in short, to be good and live 
happily ever afterwards. 

It was hard, however, to break a habit of years. 
When one has spent the greater part of one's life 
in seeing the amusing side of men and things, 
it is hard, desperately hard, to close one's eyes 
and thoughts to the humorous sights and ideas 
that association with one's neighbors brings. 

And the sight of some of my dignified neigh- 



NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 203 

bors pokering their unbending way townwards, 
brought forcibly to my mind the necessity of in 
some way ingratiating myself with them if I was 
to be a valued member of the colony and in good 
standing. With Daniel the way was open. One 
view of Daniel's three hundred pounds of good 
nature was enough to assure any man of a wel- 
come, provided he desired and deserved it. 

But the Professors and the wealthy magnate, 
the retired New Yorker, the two old ladies of a 
by-gone generation, who still wore lace mitts 
and side-curls and rather voluminous black silk 
skirts, and who occasionally screened their fine 
old faces with small silk parasols with jointed 
handles, and the two old gentlemen who took 
pains to inform me that they used to trade with my 
grandfather, and what a fine courteous old gentle- 
man he was, and how things had changed since 
his time, — they were more difficult. And when 
I reflected that the last owner of the farm was a 
treasurer of the Academy, and a trustee thereof, 
for many many years superintendent of a Sunday 
School, and a man of weight (not physical, how- 
ever, for he was of inconsiderable size) and in- 
fluence in the community, I realized that compar- 
isons would be, and in all probability had been, 
drawn, — comparisons which, like comparisons in 
general, were odious. 

It was really quite a serious question. Whether 



204 FARMING IT 

to go on as I had been doing, and look upon my 
small corner of the world with a humorous dis- 
regard, and attend strictly to my own affairs, the 
duties of my profession from nine to five, and the 
cultivation of my soil from five to dark, with the 
interval of the dinner, or to fairly lay myself out 
to the entertainment of the neighborhood. 

I really wished to be liked by my new neigh- 
bors because I wanted to live in the neighbor- 
hood and make myself one of them. I wanted 
to be able to walk in upon them without formal- 
ity, to have them drop in socially to a pipe or to 
lunch ; to discuss matters of common interest, — 
the growth of the crops, the relative butter quali- 
ties of the Jerseys, the Ayrshires, the Guernseys, 
and the Belted Dutch; the comparative egg- 
productiveness of the Minorcas, the Buff Wyan- 
dottes, and the Orpingtons; whether Aldrich 
was a real poet or a graceful dilettante; how 
many rounds it took Jeffries to put Corbett down 
and out; who was the first American educator. 
Old Man Anson or Doctor Eliot, and other 
matters of bucolic interest. 

The best method of attaining this desired end 
was the thing that occupied me day and night. 
We could not invite them to our house until they 
had called, and we were not the people to slight 
or neglect our old friends for the purpose of ob- 
taining favor with new ones. 



NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 205 

I tried various expedients. I purposely let out 
my hens one day in May, and true to the fiendish 
nature of these unaccountable bipeds, they in- 
stantly departed to a neighbor's garden and ex- 
cavated huge holes therein. This was my cue to 
rush in with a whip, drive them back to my 
own premises, and then with my hired man to 
work a couple of hours in putting the garden into 
very much better condition than it ever was in 
before, to the great approval of the neighbor, 
who might otherwise have remained in a state 
of dignified conservatism forever. 

Another neighbor's cow got loose, and in one 
night ate about half of my young sw^eet corn, 
where the young plants were six inches high. I 
carefully piloted the animal home and assured 
the apologetic owner that the damage was not 
worth considering, that my horse or cow was 
liable to get loose any day and do him more dam- 
age, and that between neighbors the damage was 
of no importance whatsoever. 

And so in a comparatively short time the idea 
got abroad that I was not really half as bad as I 
looked, and that I might in time be really a 
creditable sort of an acquaintance. 

But it was the purchase of the wheelbarrow 
that really broke down the barriers of disti-ust 
and suspicion. When I came there, like all new 
agriculturists I bought a large number of minor 



206 FARMING IT 

farming utensils, such as spades, shovels, hoes, 
a lawn-mower with a hood, forks, a lawn-roller, 
a scythe, bush-hook and snaths, double-handed 
saw, hammer, axes, hatchets, and a pigeon-holed 
box of assorted nails, and last and most impor- 
tant of all, a fine, new, five-dollar-and-fifty-cent 
wheelbarrow. 

To a neighborhood the members of which had 
for the most part inherited their tools from long- 
deceased ancestors, an opportunity to borrow 
new and modern farm implements is a rare op- 
portunity, indeed, and the ice-bound fetters of 
reserve began to warm up a little and thaw to 
quite an appreciable extent. 

In such a neighborhood a bright, new, sharp 
hoe is a mighty power to make and keep a friend- 
ship; a loanable lawn-mower will impose more 
respect than the possession of money; a box of 
assorted nails will do much to atone for the er- 
rors of a misspent life ; a roller for lawns and 
gravel-walks wields an immense influence for 
trust and affection. 

But it is a wheelbarrow that inspires love and 
good-fellowship. It is a wheelbarrow that levels 
all ranks, buries all hatchets, destroys all enmi- 
ties, absolves one from all sins of commission and 
omission past, present and future, makes one a 
man and a brother, a comrade, a friend, and 
a trusted neighbor. 



NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 207 

Within a month after the purchase of that 
wheelbarrow I was one of the most popular men 
in the community, free to borrow anything, from 
money to elderberry wine, of which the neigh- 
borhood had endless store. To me, to my wife, 
to my children, to my man-servant whom I oc- 
casionally hired for a few hours, to my maid- 
servant of a more permanent nature, to my 
cattle and the stranger within my gate, that 
wheelbarrow was the most profitable investmeat 
I ever made. 

Did I send a pitcher of cream to a neighbor, 
it was followed in a day or two by a sort of cross- 
counter in the shape of a box of fresh strawber- 
ries. Did I send a setting of eggs from my choicest 
fowl to another neighbor, he promptly retaliated 
with a bunch of delicious radishes or a couple of 
heads of lettuce, and honors were even. 

But I had things all my way with the wheel- 
barrow, for I was the only one on the street who 
owned one, and so, like the small boy who owns 
the ball, I was the pitcher on the nine until a 
new boy came along with a better ball. By these 
simple and effective means did I remove from 
my neighbors' minds all suspicions engendered 
by my past life in other quarters of the town. 

Yet the one great exploit that put me into a 
very warm place in the hearts of my neighbors, 
was the slaughter of the neighborhood dragon, 



208 FARMING IT 

the thrashing of the long-time bully of the little 
community, the clipping of the wings of the vil- 
lage condor or bucolic harpy, that for years had 
defied public opinion and outraged neighborly 
good feeling, and whose name was used to ter- 
rify refractory children into obedience. 

I was warned of this dragon when I bought the 
farm. I was told that he had made trouble for all 
his neighbors, was at his worst in litigation, 
would provoke a saint to retaliation and then 
prosecute him for it, and keep him on the gridiron 
of suspense, attending court after court until he 
wore him out; that, if he wanted anything, he 
always got it, and that, if he once got down on a 
man, he was his enemy for life ; that he was down 
on me, — why, I did not know. 

These warnings however had no great w^eight 
with me. Indeed, they did not trouble me at all. 
I had never had any trouble with the dragon and 
saw no reason why I should have. 

I had come to the neighborhood with the hon- 
est intention of being friendly and accommodat- 
ing toward all my neighbors. I was genuinely 
interested in the community. I expected to con- 
tribute according to my means to any subscrip- 
tion for neighborly interests; to subscribe my 
name to any petition addressed to the author- 
ities for the betterment of the local roads and 
lawns, trees and sidewalks. 



NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 209 

At the first sign of foreign invasion I would, 
and fully intended to, reach down from the wall 
over the fireplace the old musket and the powder 
horn that my great-grandfather might have 
shouldered in the Revolution, had he been patri- 
otic enough to attend that little festivity, and 
sally forth as did our sires at old Thermopylae. 

Did the boys from other and alien neighbor- 
hoods invade with snowballs, green apples, or 
brickbats, I would send my first-born to do bat- 
tle, urging him not to come back but upon his 
shield. Did the young ladies of our neighbor- 
hood vie with the Court-Streeters, the Front- 
Streeters, or with similar young ladies from other 
quarters of the town, I would cheer hoarsely for 
our side and contribute lemonade, pickled limes, 
slate pencils, and other delicacies peculiar to 
very young ladies. 

Did the Decoration Day parade propose any 
other route of parade than through our street, I 
would fight their modest appropriation until they 
acquiesced in the observance of our time-honored 
rights. Did the street commissioner run his snow- 
plough over Elliott, Grove, Linden, or Court 
Street before our street, I would have some- 
thing to say in relation to that anxious, unhappy, 
and much-badgered gentleman's reelection. 

In short, I had come to Pine Street prepared 
to cast my lot with the Pine-streeters, to espouse 



210 FARMING IT 

their quarrels, to share their joys. In time of war 
to "cry 'Havoc!' and let loose the dogs of war," 
or to cry anything else that might be more in- 
telligible to the modern dogs of war, or appro- 
priate to the circumstances. In times of peace, 
to raise white-winged pigeons as emblematic of 
the idealistic conditions. And with such peace- 
ful intentions I most certainly did not expect 
trouble with any one. 

The Dragon's name was Cyrus Pettigrew. 
Not a handsome name, and Cyrus looked his 
name if any one ever did. He was old and gnarled 
and dried and wrinkled and rusty. He was mean 
and skimpy and avaricious and penurious and 
grasping. He was harsh and sour and contrary 
and selfish and grumpy. 

But I had no fear of trouble. I usually had no 
trouble with any one. It may have been in a 
measure due to my profession, for few men care 
to pick a quarrel with a lawyer. It may have been 
in a still greater measure due to my avocation, 
for the men who will risk being embalmed in a 
newspaper or magazine roast are still more rarely 
found. Whatever may have been the cause the 
fact was undisputed. I was a peaceable man and 
lived a peaceful life. 

But the man never lived who could reside next 
to old Pettigrew and not have trouble with him. 
Poor old Cyrus, — he is dead now, and, *'De 



NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 211 

mortuis nil nisi bonum" notwithstanding, I have 
never found man, woman, or child that w^ould 
own to a passing regret at Cyrus's departure. 

My first meeting w ith Cyrus as a neighbor w^as 
trying. I wanted a new fence between his place 
and mine, and I sought him one day near the old 
boundary fence. Cyrus met my proposition very 
coldly. He did n't want a fence. The fence had 
been good enough for him and my predecessor 
for a good many years. And he didn't think 
much of an interloper w^ho wanted to change 
everything over. 

In vain I argued the necessity of an up-to- 
date wire fence. Cyrus w^ould have none of it. 
I finally offered to pay the entire expense. To 
this Cyrus, who had a sharp nose for a bargain 
and a pair of exceedingly sharp and far-sighted 
eyes for his own interest, agreed, although very 
grumpily. 

Having obtained his consent I lost no time in 
buying posts and wire-fencing, and in hiring a 
carpenter, sappers, and miners, and starting the 
work. At this time I was called out of town for 
a few days, and on my return found to my great 
pleasure that my new fence had been erected and 
the carpenter was just leaving. I went out at once 
to view it and to rejoice in the great improvement, 
and judge of my disgust and wrath when I found 
that the grasping old rascal had made the car- 



212 FARMING IT 

penter put the new fence more than a foot on my 
land, the whole length of the division line. 

After a vigorous speech to the propitiatory 
carpenter, in the course of which I coined several 
entirely new objurgations appropriate to the oc- 
casion, I jammed my hat to my ears and made 
for Cyrus's house. I was boiling with rage, and 
fortunately for us both Cyrus was not at home. 

As I came back, better thoughts began to take 
possession of me. The strip of land was n't worth 
fighting about. I had made up my mind not to 
have any row with my neighbors, and here I was, 
exploding like a paper bag the first time any one 
got under my guard. 

The old scamp had certainly scored on me, but 
I would keep my eyes open in the future. So I 
made up my mind to forget it, or at least, if 
I could not forget it, to take no action and to 
say no word. 

A short time after this, some of my hens got 
out and into his yard. There was nothing grow- 
ing at the time, and they certainly did him no 
damage. But when I came home, I found three 
dead hens on my side of the fence, that he had 
shot and thrown over. 

This so "riled" me that I promised profanely 
to have his scalp nailed to my barn-door if it 
took a leg. But upon sober second thought I 
dressed the hens, sent them to him by my son 



NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 213 

Dick, with a polite note of apology for the tres- 
pass, and a promise to look after my hens in the 
future. I hoped for one of two results from this 
course. First: that he would be so overcome by 
my magnanimity that he would seek me out, ask 
my pardon, and endeavor to be a loyal friend 
for life. Second : If he did not do this, that a bone 
of one of those deceased biddies w^ould stick in 
his gnarly old throat and choke him to death 
lingeringly and horribly. 

Neither result happened, however. 

The old wretch had a habit of squinting down 
the line of the new fence, as if still doubtful if he 
had got quite as much of my land as he wished; 
and as he took occasion to do this when I was 
down in the garden, it was perfectly evident to 
me that he was trying to aggravate me into hos- 
tilities. This I resolved not to allow him to do. 

But, alas for my good intentions ! trouble came. 
Dick, a young chap of seventeen, one day went 
across the line for a baseball that had fallen on 
old Pettigrew's land. He had to pass nearly to 
the centre of the old man's garden, littered with 
dead vines and stubs of last year's corn-stalks, 
when forth from the barn came the old man on 
the run, with a heavy whip in his knotted hand, 
and made directly for Dick, breathing slaughter. 

Now, this was a little too much, and in a sec- 
ond I had dropped whatever I had in my hand 



214 FARMING IT 

and had rushed to the fence with the intention 
of vaulting it, disarming the old man, and walk- 
ing him Spanish back to the barn for a little 
heart-to-heart talk, when a surprising thing hap- 
pened. 

Dick, instead of running, as I supposed he 
would, — for the spectacle of a man of sixty, 
armed with a bull-whip and bearing down on 
one with curses is rather formidable to a boy, — 
stood quietly, awaiting his approach, with his left 
hand in his pocket, but with the right hanging 
at his side clinching the baseball. I was near 
enough to see a look in his face and a glitter in 
his eye that I knew meant fight. 

Old Pettigrew, seeing that Dick did not re- 
treat, slowed down to a walk, and then stopped. 

"Git offer my Ian', ye whelp of Satan, or I'll 
cut ye tew ribbons!" said the old man, with a 
fearful curse. 

"I 'm going to get off your land, Mr. Petti- 
grew," said Dick; "but if you raise that whip 
again I'll smash in your old ribs with this base- 
ball and whale you so your old hide won't hold 
water ; now get out of my way ! " And he stepped 
directly toward the old man, who was between 
him and the fence. 

" Don't ye peg that ball at me or I '11 have ye 
arrested," said the old man, backing precipitately 
as the young chap approached. 







GIT OFFER MY LAN', YE WHELP OF SATAN 



NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 215 

Dick said nothing further, but leisurely walked 
to the fence, vaulted over, and came face to face 
with me. 

"Good boy, Dick!" I said, as he looked up in 
surprise and some sheepishness at getting caught ; 
" I did think you were in for a warm time." 

"Huh!" said Dick, "that old cuss, — I could 
lick two of him. Hear him swear," he continued. 

And indeed the old man was giving the best 
imitation of the army of Flanders I had ever 
heard. He danced up and down and threatened 
every sort of vengeance a distorted mind could 
think of. 

We paid no further attention to the wretched 
old man, but left him to cool off. I was too much 
pleased with the unexpected fighting qualities of 
my first-born to care enough about old Cyrus 
to listen. To tell the entire truth, I was the least 
bit disappointed that the old man had backed 
down so promptly, for I possessed a deal of curi- 
ositv to see Dick in action. 

A few days afterwards, a dog that occasionally 
came to the house, an inoffensive, good-natured, 
trampish animal, was shot on the old man's land 
and probably by him, although nobody saw him 
do it. We heard the shot at dinner, heard the 
agonized yelping of the poor animal, ran out and 
found him dying in the rear of the old man's 
house. 



216 FARMING IT 

Dick and I did not hesitate to go across the line 
and bring the poor old fellow back. He died 
before we got him over the fence. Nobody inter- 
fered with us, and I think we were both hugely 
disappointed. 

If the old man had appeared I think some one 
would have been hurt. Nothing makes a man 
more wolfish than to see a pet shot to death, and 
dying with wide-open, pleading eyes and panting, 
choking breath. We buried the poor animal 
under an apple tree in the orchard. 

During the first spring, summer, and fall, old 
Cyrus exhausted every device to annoy us. In 
the spring, if the wind blew in the direction of our 
buildings, on that day he would light a huge 
bonfire of damp matter and send dense clouds of 
smoke over us. Finding that this did not annoy 
us particularly, as the smoke of spring bonfires 
was very agreeable to us, he would put on an old 
horse-blanket, a few shovels of stable manure, or 
a dead hen, and raise a stench that nearly stifled 
the entire neighborhood. 

He never failed to shoot one of my hens if it 
escaped from the yard and trespassed, but after 
the first experience I no longer dressed and sent 
them to him. But on one occasion, when his hens 
got out and strayed on my premises, I carefully 
drove them back unhurt, only to be accused of 
purposely letting them out. 



NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 217 

During the second winter he could not annoy 
me as much, but every mean insinuation that 
malice could invent or distort, he made. It was 
in April of the second year that I got him hard 
and fast, and by the merest chance. 

I had in the previous September bought my 
Jersey cow. I was very particular about her ap- 
pearance, curried her every day, bedded and 
blanketed her, and indeed cared for her as well 
and painstakingly as I did for Polly. The custom 
of the local farmers was to allow filth to accumu- 
late on their cows' flanks and legs, until it hung 
from them in crusty scales, to peel off in the 
spring with the shedding of the old coat. The 
care I gave my cow made her coat shine like satin, 
and certainly lent a relish to her milk. In April 
her old coat became dull and dead, and she 
began to rub it off her head and neck in patches, 
disclosing a close new coat of cream-color where 
the winter coat had been a light chestnut. 

One morning, in rubbing her down, I found 
that with my fingers I could pull the old coat off 
in tufts, and that she apparently enjoyed having 
it pulled. Without really thinking of what I was 
doing, I wrote my initials, H. A. S., on her back 
by pulling out the dead hair. Seeing how easily I 
could do this, I drew, or rather pulled, on her 
side near the curve of the belly, a grotesque figure 
of a small boy, then a circular brand on her 



218 FARMING IT 

shoulder, and three X's on her flank. Then I 
quietly led her to the hitching-post at the side 
of the house and awaited developments. 

In a moment my wife came to the door, with 
wide-open eyes. **For gracious sake what have 
you been doing to that cow.^" she demanded. 

"Oh, nothing," I replied, "that's the way range- 
cattle are branded. This cow had a good many 
owners and evidently each one branded her," 
I further explained. 

"It's no such thing," she retorted hotly, "you 
did it yourself. That explains why she bellowed 
so this winter." 

She had bellowed a good deal when I took 
away her calf, but I did not say so, for I always 
liked to get a rise out of my wife. 

" I think it is just horrid in you, and about the 
crudest thing I ever heard of, and you have just 
spoiled her looks." 

Now out of the corner of my eye I could see 
old Cyrus peering over the fence and listening 
gloatingly to the conversation. After giving him 
time to satisfy himself thoroughly, I led the cow 
back to the barn, followed by my wife, and there 
illustrated the matter by drawing on the off-side 
of the animal a serpent and a circular brand, 
while that delighted animal stood with eyes half 
closed in ecstasy. 

Much relieved and amused, my wife went back 



NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 219 

to the house, laughing over the ridiculously dec- 
orated animal. 

After milking the Jersey, I led her out and 
tethered her in the sun in full view of old Cy- 
rus's premises, and finished my breakfast. On 
my return to lunch I was informed by my wife 
that the old man had been looking at the cow 
from over his fence, in company with several men, 
to whom he was talking with excited gestures. 

This amused me so much that I laughed 
loudly. But I did not for a moment anticipate 
the far-reaching results of my joke. I only 
thought it an excellent joke on the old man, as 
it had been on my wife and my daughter and 
Dick. 

That night I was to give a lecture in a neigh- 
boring town, and departed on the afternoon train, 
intending to return in the morning. I had an ex- 
cellent audience, an enthusiastic reception, and 
a very flattering introduction. Just as I had made 
my bow and was about to begin, a man whom 
I knew to be a deputy sheriff stepped on the 
platform, placed his hand on my shoulder, and 
informed me that I was under arrest. 

I am sure I was never so astonished in my 
life. If the audience had suddenly risen in the 
air like the card people in "Alice in Wonder- 
land," I should not have been more surprised; 
nor do I believe the audience would have been. 



220 FARMING IT 

for his words were perfectly audible and he was 
well known to them. 

For a full minute I must have stood staring 
at him. Then I asked for his warrant, and he 
handed me one. I opened it and found it was 
regularly issued by a justice on a complaint 
signed by old Cyrus Pettigrew, charging me with 
''cruelty in burning, cutting, branding, and 
otherwise torturing a certain Jersey cow then 
and there in my charge and custody, or wilfully 
permitting and allowing said animal then and 
there in my custody as aforesaid to be burned, 
cut, branded or otherwise tortured." 

In a flash the whole scheme dawned on me 
and I could not help admiring the old rascal's 
devilish ingenuity in planning the details, and 
at the same time his inevitable disgust and fury 
when the truth was known. 

In the meantime I was in the most unpleasant 
and ridiculous position imaginable; but one's 
mind works quickly, and I instantly told the 
audience that I was arrested for cruelty to ani- 
mals, that if they would kindly watch the papers 
for the outcome of the trial, which I was sure 
would be interesting to them, and defer judg- 
ment to that time, I would fill my engagement 
and finish my lecture. 

The audience applauded, the sheriff took a 
seat on the platform, grinning good-naturedly, 



NEIGHBORHOOD NUISANCE 221 

and I began my lecture. I was thoroughly keyed 
up to the occasion, and so filled with laughter 
as the possibilities of the situation dawned on 
me, that my lecture was really very funny, and, 
as the audience said, exceedingly entertaining. 
Indeed, at its close they crowded about me with 
offers of bail or assistance of any kind. 

I thanked them most heartily, and, accom- 
panied by the deputy, went to my hotel, where I 
engaged a room with two beds, he having very 
indulgently agreed to stay with me at a hotel 
rather than to load me with chains and incar- 
cerate me in the local lock-up, which was in- 
deed very good of him. I chuckled to myself to 
see the care with which he chose the bed nearer 
the door, looked at the fastenings of the win- 
dows, locked the door, and put the key under his 
pillow. 

And so, after undressing, I lay down peace- 
ably on the other bed, and having no guilty con- 
science, fell asleep. I am afraid my keeper did 
not sleep as soundly as I did, for I have a vague 
recollection of his lighting the gas several times 
during the night, and peering at my recumbent 
form, to see if I was really there. 

And thus did we spend the night. 



CHAPTER XXII 




THE DISCOMFITURE OF CYRUS 

N the morning, after a bath, which I 
took, but which the deputy declined, 
we went downstairs to breakfast, 
where I was stared at by the few 
early guests, who evidently considered me a 
very desperate character indeed, and where I 
was obliged to decline several interviews with 
reporters, to whom I told nothing beyond urg- 
ing them to attend the trial, which I told them 
would probably be continued to the next week, 
as I should ask for time to prepare my case 
thoroughly. 

The morning papers had accounts of the ar- 
rest, with comments upon my personality. Upon 
returning home, I went at once to the court- 
room, where I found Cyrus and his counsel and 
a crowd awaiting me. 

I waived the reading of the complaint, pleaded 
not guilty, and asked for a continuance of one 
week. To this the prosecuting attorney entered 
a most vigorous objection, and argued the mat- 
ter at great length, — to no purpose, however, 



DISCOMFITURE OF CYRUS 223 

as my request was reasonable and proper. I was 
held in bail of five hundred dollars, — although 
the attorney, urged on by old Cyrus, asked for 
five thousand, — and hurried home to explain 
matters. 

My first anxiety was to secure the cow from 
examination, as I did not want the prosecution 
to find out the truth and spoil the fun. I found 
that one or two had called to see the cow, but that 
Dick had kept the barn locked. 

The week I spent before the trial was one of 
the queerest and most amusing, and at times un- 
comfortable, I had ever spent in my life. The 
papers devoted a good deal of space to me, and 
evidently considered me a rather hopeless case. 
Indeed, to judge from the talk of my fellow citi- 
zens, I had been a whited sepulchre, a wolf in 
sheep's clothing and several other objectionable 
things, for a long time. Much to my pleasure, my 
neighbors, to a man, stood by me. I suppose they 
considered that of two evils, I, as the newest 
comer, could not be as bad as old Cyrus, or one 
tenth as bad as he painted me. 

The day before the trial my wife was, to 
her intense indignation, summoned as a witness 
by the prosecution. Although as my wife she 
could not be compelled to testify against me, I 
persuaded her to waive her rights and to testify, 
telling her how great a compliment they paid her 



224 FARMING IT 

in being willing to assume that she would tell 
the truth even if it sent her helpmeet to a felon's 
cell. 

The great day arrived, and there was vast 
excitement in our midst. I had never been tried 
for my life or liberty before, and naturally woke 
early and ate but little breakfast. I drank, how- 
ever, two cups of strong coffee, and after break- 
fast went to the stable to arrange with Pat to 
bring my main witness, the cow, to the court at 
the proper time. I had bought a handsome 
blanket for her, and before Pat put it on I ex- 
amined her carefully. Although she had shed a 
considerable amount of hair during the week, 
the letters and figures were as distinct as ever. 

Then, giving Pat instructions to wait until 
sent for, and on no account to let any one ex- 
amine her or lift the blanket, and arming him 
with a long whip to enforce my commands, I 
started for the court-house with my devoted 
family. As we approached the edifice, we saw 
an immense crowd gathered around the door and 
steps and sidewalk. 

Cameras clicked and snapped and took our 
lineaments and our widely divergent, joint and 
several proportions, to their secret recesses; 
impertinent strangers climbed on one another's 
shoulders and stared and voted us generally a 
bad lot, and frowned and sneered when our 



DISCOMFITURE OF CYRUS 225 

friends, or some of them, smiled and wished us 
luck. 

It took the entire police posse to force an en- 
trance to the court-room, and after we had taken 
seats the prosecuting attorney began his opening 
address, upon which he had spent the entire 
week. He pictured me as a monster, a bloodless, 
cruel, devilish vampire, a man with a heart 
barred to every human impulse, with blood 
as cold as an iceberg. He pictured the meek, 
mild, gentle cow, made for man's delight, for 
woman's happiness, for children's life and wel- 
fare, thrown roughly to the floor, pinioned and 
helpless, while the cruel, scorching, red-hot 
branding-irons burned their relentless way into 
her shrinking, palpitating tissues, leaving their 
shameful brand like the mark of Cain or the Scar- 
let Letter. He said, — but perhaps it is unneces- 
sary to repeat all he said ; but at the close of his 
address the audience turned from me with loath- 
ing, or glared at me with baleful eyes, and my 
wife, on hearing her name called as the first 
witness, jumped as if some one had jabbed her 
with a hat pin. 

Mrs. Shute, being sworn, testified that she was 
the wife of the respondent, that she lived with 
him on Pine Street, that he was perfectly sane 
and responsible, and had never acted queerly, — 
no, sir ! he certainly had not ; that he kept a Jer- 



226 FARMING IT 

sey cow, — that it was bought the year before 
that there were no marks nor brands on it then, 
nor later ; that she first saw them a week ago ; 
the marks were, on the left side, Mr. Shute's 
initials, H. A. S., a circular brand on the shoul- 
der, three X's on the flank, and on the right side 
a serpent and a circular brand ; that they were 
put there during the winter, — by her husband 
as he said ; that she had heard the cow bellowing 
not long before — about the time they sold the 
calf ; supposed it was that ; never saw any brand- 
ing-irons ; Mr. Shute could have had them with- 
out her knowledge; did get angry and scolded 
her husband ; did say it was the crudest thing he 
ever did. 

Mrs. Shute was excused, Mr. Shute not asking 
her any questions. 

By this time the audience were ready to ap- 
plaud a death-sentence. 

Dr. LePelletier was sworn : Was a veterina- 
rian ; made an examination of cow ; found her 
covered with brands ; must have been made with 
red-hot irons; must have caused great agony to 
her; bellowing was undoubtedly caused by tor- 
ture; cicatrices very plain; hair never would 
grow again because hide burned through ; marks 
could not be removed except by skinning cow; 
marks were not on cow the preceding autumn. 

Cross-examined: Not nearer the cow than 



DISCOMFITURE OF CYRUS 227 

across the fence — about two rods ; could not 
have been mistaken ; marks made with brand- 
ing-irons or red-hot end of iron ; cows sometimes 
bellow when calf taken from them; called to 
view cow by Mr. Pettigrew ; very nice man, Mr. 
Pettigrew. 

Dr. LePelletier stepped down. 

At the close of the doctor's testimony the audi- 
ence showed their feelings quite plainly, and evi- 
dently considered burying me at a cross-road 
with a stake through my heart as the least thing 
that could be done under the circumstances. 

Cyrus Pettigrew, sworn. Cyrus made the 
responses to the oath with great vigor and dis- 
tinctness. Was a neighbor; saw cow when she 
was bought, and every day until winter; saw 
her last eight days ago; branded all over, — hor- 
ribly; described marks at great length: large 
scars of burning; heard cow bellowing dread- 
fully a short time before; pounding in stable; 
sounded like struggle; Mr. Shute a man of un- 
governable temper, very profane ; boy takes after 
his father; heard Mrs. Shute complain of Mr. 
Shute' s brutality to the cow ; she was very angry 
at it ; heard him say he did it ; heard her call him 
a cruel man ; remembered smelling burning hair 
and flesh at different times during the winter; 
heard bellowing; did not go over because did 
not wish to intrude ; did n't imagine a man could 



228 FARMING IT 

be so cruel ; had no interest in case except to 
stop brutality. 

Cross-examination : Did n't have any trouble 
over fence ; moved fence over because it belonged 
there; did shoot hens because they did damage; 
hens can do damage in winter; did eat them 
when they were sent him ; did not shoot dog ; was 
shot on his land; don't know who did it; saw 
respondent and son there with dog; could not 
say but they did it ; did try to drive respondent's 
son off land ; had whip in hand ; did n't strike 
boy because only wanted to scare him; might 
have said some things to boy; boy was "sassy"; 
was never convicted of girdling trees of neighbor. 

Violent objection by counsel for prosecution, 
who demanded to know whether or not witness 
had any rights, and whether or not we were living 
in "Rooshia." 

Objection overruled by court, who decided for 
counsel's benefit that we were still in America. 

Witness ordered to answer: Was not con- 
victed; was arrested once on false charge; did 
pay some money to help neighbor out ; did n't 
remember how much; never had trouble with 
neighbors; had shot Professor Miller's hens; 
Professor Miller did not make any trouble ; had 
some students arrested once; students were dis- 
charged ; was sure marks on cow were made by 
hot iron : could see scars ; had no ill-will toward 



DISCOMFITURE OF CYRUS 229 

respondent; had given warrant to deputy in 
evening; gave him no instruction except where 
to find respondent ; knew respondent was to give 
lecture ; did tell deputy to arrest at once ; did not 
tell deputy he was a damned fool to let respond- 
ent finish lecture ; may have said something like 
that. 

At the close of the cross-examination of old 
Cyrus, it was plain to see that he had not helped 
the prosecution much, but had created a dis- 
tinctly bad impression, and that the audience 
would be satisfied with plain electrocution. 

The prosecuting attorney then demanded that 
the cow be brought in as a witness, and said that, 
inasmuch as he had served a subpcena duces tecum 
upon me, and the object of the duces tecum had 
not appeared, he moved for an attachment for 
contempt. 

In reply I purged myself of contempt by assur- 
ing the court that the cow w^as then and there in 
transitu, and I should call her as my first wit- 
ness. The prosecution then rested, and I asked 
the court to take a recess for five minutes, when 
I would be ready. In less than that time Dick, 
who had left the court-room, returned, saying 
that the cow was in the square in front of the 
building, and I asked the court to adjourn to the 
square for a view. 

This was done, the audience piling out like 



230 FARMING IT 

school-boys. Arrived in the square, a dense 
crowd had collected about the Jersey, who, 
blanketed and guarded by two burly Irishmen, 
stared inquiringly about until she saw me, when 
she gave a soft moo of recognition. With some 
difficulty the officers cleared a large ring, in the 
centre of which stood the cow, Mike, Pat, the 
honorable Court, the respondent, the complain- 
ant, the attorney for the prosecution. 

I then addressed the court as follows: "May 
it please the Court; I now propose to demon- 
strate by the clearest evidence possible how far 
the malicious ingenuity of a vicious old man, 
and a bad neighbor, will go to make trouble for a 
person who never did him an unkindness, — in 
short that the cow never was hurt or tortured or 
branded ; that the whole thing was an innocent 
joke, a fool joke perhaps, but one that never hurt 
or injured any one or anything." 

I then stripped off the blanket, and there in 
plain sight were the various marks on the cow's 
hide. At my request the court and the attorney 
ran their hands over her and found no scars. 

"Now, to show your Honor how these marks 
were made — " 

"It is unnecessary," said the court, "I have 
owned cows myself, and perhaps I can illustrate 
as well as you"; and stepping forward, with 
rapid hands he fashioned upon her side the word 




THE WHOLE THING WAS AN INNOCENT JOKE 



DISCOMFITURE OF CYRUS 231 

"Stung," at which there was a roar of deh'ght 
and appreciation from the crowd. "Respondent 
discharged," he continued, "and court is ad- 
journed." 

At the close of the formalities I held an im- 
promptu reception in the square and shook hands 
w^ith several hundred people. But before an hour 
had elapsed I had issued a Capias for old Cyrus 
in a fifty-thousand-dollar suit for malicious prose- 
cution. 

In vain he tried to get bail ; nobody would bail 
him, and that night for the first time in his life, 
perhaps, he slept in jail. The April term was in 
progress and my suit could not be entered until 
October, and in the event of not obtaining bail 
he would have to remain in jail until October. 

The next day he sent for me. I refused to see 
him. The day after he sent me a written appeal. 
I threw it in the waste-basket. The third day an 
old acquaintance of his, and one whom he had 
wronged, called and begged me to give him a 
chance. I made him wait a few days. By this 
time the old man's appeals were abject. 

At the end of a week I went to see him. He 
had aged terribly in that week, and I could n't 
help pitying him. But I was cold and stern and 
firm, and before I left I had a sworn statement 
from him of certain things that would have 
brought him perilously near state prison, but 



232 FARMING IT 

which I promised not to use as long as he be- 
haved himself. 

I then withdrew my suit, and he came from jail 
a thoroughly humbled and broken-spirited old 
man. He did not remain in Exeter long, but as 
soon as he could sell his property left the state. 
He died a year or so ago in a distant state. Poor 
old chap ! I have sometimes wondered if I were 
not a bit too hard on him. Perhaps I was. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

A RETURN 




T was a beautiful afternoon in August 
about three years after I bought my 
farm, and I was sitting in my office 
11 idly watching the people passing in 
the square, and wondering why I did not hear 
from Dick, who was on a vacation and had not 
written me for ten days. I missed him and missed 
his letters, which were bright, gossipy, and full of 
happy observations on passing events. 

Dick had greatly disappointed me by firmly 
standing out against a college course, and by 
entering my office for the study of law. But in 
the office he was so apt and helpful, so good- 
natured and so studious, that I felt that perhaps 
he was right after all, and I had been looking 
forward to the day when his name might be on 
my sign, — so selfish do old men get when their 
interests are concerned. 

I felt reasonably sure about Dick. He was by 
no means a goody-goody, had a quick temper, 
was more than a bit mulish, but well-disposed 
and rather ambitious. He was well- liked by his 



234 FARMING IT 

acquaintances, and popular in a jovial, good- 
fellow-sort of way with the girls. While he had 
taken them to dances and entertainments, called 
on them, serenaded them with close-harmonied 
quartettes and glee-clubs, he had never shown 
any serious preference for any particular girl, 
and always when talking with me of his girl 
acquaintances had been frank and confidential. 
He was emphatically a boy to trust in such mat- 
ters, and I felt very confident that he would never 
make a fool of himself over any girl or woman. 

On this day I was feeling remarkably at peace 
with the world. Business had been good, and 
fairly remunerative, the farm was prospering. 
I had eaten strawberries from my own patch 
until I could eat no more, raspberries and cur- 
rants from my own bushes, all the early vege- 
tables in season. My hens had laid wonderfully 
well, and the young cockerels were beginning to 
crow, my homing pigeons and black, smooth- 
legged tumblers had been prolific. In fact, a 
season of unprecedented peace and prosperity 
had enveloped my little farm as a garment. 

The afternoon mail came, and I lazily looked 
it over. There was little of importance save a 
letter from Dick. I put that aside for a moment 
w^hile I dictated replies to the business letters, 
and then, while the click of the typewriter in the 
inner room disturbed the summer silence, I leaned 



A RETURN 235 

back to enjoy Dick's letter, but promptly sat up 
with a jerk as I read this brief but astonishing 
message. 

Aug. 6, 190- 

Dear Old Man, — I have drawn on you for 
two hundred and fifty dollars. Please honor draft 
as I must have the money. Will explain every- 
thing when I get home which will be on Thursday 
next at about six o'clock. I am not coming alone, 
for I shall bring a young lady with me. You can- 
not help loving her as I do. 

Yours, 

Dick. 

I looked out on the square without seeing any- 
thing. Then I took up the letter again ; but the 
page shook so I could n't read a word. I took a 
turn round the office, gulped down a glass of 
water, took a fierce grasp of myself, and this time 
read the letter through from date to signature. 
Then I sat in the window trying to realize it. 
Dick married ! to a girl I had never seen, or heard 
of, and knew nothing about ! Perhaps to a de- 
signing, elderly woman, possibly a widow, who 
knew how to marshal her attractions so as to 
bewilder and dazzle a boy of nineteen. What 
would become of his future, his law studies, 
his partnership with me, our joint productions in 
the way of briefs, declarations, rejoinders, sur- 



236 FARMING IT 

rejoinders, rebutters, and sur-rebutters, our divi- 
sion of respectable if not fat fees, our enjoyment 
of an honorable and solid if not brilliant reputa- 
tion as country attorneys, our joint productions 
as amateur agriculturists in the way of fruits, 
vegetables, staple products, and live-stock ? 

What was to become of my ambition to retire 
one day from active work in office, court, farm, and 
garden, and to hand over the sceptre of author- 
ity to my son Dick ? What was to become of — 
Oh, damn it all ! hang all designing women, all 
languishing, ogling, curl-shaking, deceptive, false, 
dangerous widows! 

And Dick had done this ! Dick ! who had al- 
ways been frank and square with me. Dick had 
married, a nobody, perhaps, a girl whom we 
might not be able to take to our hearts or our 
house. Why was n't the law different ? Why 
did n't we live in Germany or France or Russia 
or in some sensible country where boys of nine- 
teen could n't contract marriage without their 
parents' consent.^ 

Well, I must face it, we must all face it ; I would 
pay the draft, but if Dick thought he was going 
to bring a squint-eyed Jezebel to my house for 
me to support; if Dick really expected to have 
me provide food, clothing and lodging for any 
gray-haired fairy he was ass enough to fall in 
love with ; if Dick was banking on the probability 



A RETURN 237 

that my wife and I would step down and out for 
the first female harpy that managed to get her 
veteran claws through his donkey's hide, — why, 
Dick would have a chance to learn something 
come Thursday evening at about six. 

No, he should not come home, danged if he 
should ! I would w^rite him at once. " Here ! Miss 
Blank!" I yelled so loudly to my stenographer 
that, for the first time in her office-life perhaps, 
she came into my room without running her hand 
through her fluffy foretop or settling her belt. 
"Take this dow^n at once! No, I '11 write it my- 
self." Where shall I address the idiot ? Just like 
him ; no address given, — letter posted in Boston. 
On his honeymoon in Boston, with my two hun- 
dred and fifty dollars. Well, he would find mighty 
little honeymoon after he got home with his 
superannuated old helpmeet. And I broke into 
such hearty maledictions that the stenographer 
tiptoed to her door and softly closed it. 

Then I went home with my letter and read it 
to my wife. She had recourse to tears, then re- 
proaches, then hysterics. I thought I had carried 
on badly enough, but she showed me a few new 
things in that line. It was I who was to blame. 
It was I who had allow^ed him too much liberty. 
It was I who had sent him to that horrid summer 
resort, and had furnished him with money to 
spend on horrid old false-fronted widows. And 



238 FARMING IT 

did Dick think he was going to bring that woman 
home for her to work for ? Well she guessed not ! 
And did that woman think — Well, it is not 
advisable to disclose all she said. In view of later 
developments we both have reconsidered many 
conclusions that we arrived at that day, and have 
been truly sorry for some things we said ; but 
allowing for the excitement under which we 
labored, and the sudden dashing of our hopes to 
the ground, some allowance should be made for 
us both. 

We were however firmly of the opinion that 
she was at least forty, wore a false front, rouge, 
pearl-powder, and high-heeled shoes, and laced 
to suffocation. It was thought best to acquaint 
Gramp and Dick's uncles and aunts with the 
circumstances, and they were nearly as much 
affected, and in somewhat the same way, as we 
were. His aunts wept bitterly, while his uncles, 
following Gramp's distinguished leadership, 
painted some of the most vivid word-pictures I 
ever saw or heard. I really was quite ashamed 
of my feeble efforts after hearing theirs. 

For the next few days I thought of the matter 
constantly. I slept badly and dreamed hideous 
dreams. My wife went about with red eyes and 
woe-begone countenance. My daughter was the 
only one who viewed the matter in the proper 
spirit. She looked at it with unjaundiced eyes, 



A RETURN 239 

and looked forward with anticipation to a new 
sister. Indeed, after a few days I found myself 
wondering if I had not been a bit hasty. Perhaps 
after all she might not be so bad. Suppose she 
was young and pretty and dutiful ? It would n't 
be at all bad. Suppose, after a time, a grand- 
daughter or grandson arrived ? Well, I always 
had loved my babies, and I guess I would make 
a pretty good grandpa after all, and Dick could 
have the large east front room for a sitting-room, 
and the small bedroom adjoining. I had prac- 
tised law long enough to know the folly of antici- 
pating a judgment. I was an ass, a venerable 
long-eared ass. I would venture to bet she was 
young and pretty. Dick was no fool. He may 
have been a bit imprudent, but who wanted an 
icicle for a son ? I would n't give a cent for a boy 
who would n't be carried off his feet provided the 
right girl came along. I was wrong, I had been 
an ass. I guess it would be a good idea to paint 
and paper those rooms, and to get a new rug for 
the floor and a chiffonier with long, wide drawers. 
Women liked them, and I guess Dick's wife 
should have them if she wanted them. The best 
was none too good for Dick, and Dick's wife was 
going to be treated about as well as he. I saw a 
handsome fur rug that would n't look at all badly 
in front of their fireplace. Perhaps she had bet- 
ter choose these things. Yes, there was no doubt 



240 FARMING IT 

of it, — I would wait. But we would welcome 
her all the same, for she was Dick's wife. 

It was Thursday afternoon, and we were 
waiting for Dick and his wife to arrive. I had 
shaved and put on my newly-pressed summer 
suit ; my wife had on a white duck suit and white 
tennis shoes, my daughter wore the same. I sat 
under a tree reading a newspaper ; a couple of 
law books lay opened at my feet. I had n't read 
them, and did n't intend to read them, and did n't 
care a hang what they contained. Only it would 
be a good idea to let Dick's wife know just what 
sort of a family she was entering. If she was 
well-bred, she would feel more at home, and if 
she was ill-bred, forward, or conceited, it would 
perhaps be as well to impress her in the first place 
so as to keep her from undue self-assertiveness. 

As I sat there pretending to read, but in reality 
not seeing a line or a word of the page, I began 
again to be depressed about the prospect of an 
addition to the family that would at best be thor- 
oughly unwelcome both to my wife and to me, 
and, more unfortunately, to Dick. A boy of his 
age would not be likely to be attracted by a 
young and refined girl, because Dick was cer- 
tainly young, and for a boy, rather refined and 
fastidious, and he would be all the more liable 
to be impressed by the coarser and more mature 



A RETURN 241 

charms of an altogether impossible person, only, 
alas! to find out his fatal mistake too late. 

It was only too true : Dick was an ass, and my 
first impressions were too likely to be true. Hang 
the women ! hang 'em ! ! hang 'em ! ! ! 

In spite of my disgust, anger, and deep depres- 
sion, I could not restrain a smile as I suddenly 
beheld Gramp appear on his piazza across the 
street, got up as Gramp generally gets himself 
up on festal occasions, regardless, not of expense 
but of appearances. He had put on an old- 
fashioned black broadcloth coat with tails, — 
one of those perfectly dreadful coats that make 
a respectable man look like a composite picture 
of a pirate, a Methodist parson of the old school 
and a faro-dealer. He had neglected to change 
his trousers, and wore an old pair of an inde- 
scribable color, — a sort of greenish brown gar- 
nished with grease spots, — and ending in an old 
pair of shoes run down at the heel, cracked 
across the tops and sides, and gray with ashes. 

The costume, topped by a rusty black felt hat 
at a rakish angle on his snow-white hair, and 
further ornamented by a new clay pipe, made 
of the old gentleman a rather fierce but very fine- 
looking old chap. 

Beside him sat two of Dick's aunts, as usual, 
well and quietly dressed, and looking like thor- 
oughbreds, all evidently conscious of the vital 



242 FARMING IT 

necessity of a first impression. None of the 
uncles were present, they having rather forcibly 
expressed their disgust with the whole proceed- 
ings. 

As it drew near six o'clock, I could sit still no 
longer and walked to the hedge and looked down 
the street. Suddenly, from the opposite direction, 
I heard the rapid thud of a horse's feet, — a 
quick short snappy trot that seemed strangely 
familiar. I turned and stared, and there whirled 
round the corner a sorrel mare with head up, 
mane and tail flying, going like the wind, and 
drawing a light buggy in which sat a young man 
grinning delightedly and holding the flying mare 
with the coachman's grip. Shades of immortal 
Csesar ! it was Dick driving Polly, — Polly for 
whom I had hunted so long and vainly! 

I was never so completely taken aback in my 
life, and stood blankly with my mouth open like 
a "plumb idjut." On the piazza my wife and 
daughter stood like people bereft of sense, until 
suddenly Nathalie's voice rang out: "Father! 
father! It's Polly! Dick's got Polly!" 

By this time Dick had pulled up, jumped to 
the ground, thrown the reins over Polly's back, 
and had come forward to greet us. 

"Well, old man," he said, "what do you think 
of my young lady ?" 

"You infernal young rascal!" I sputtered; "I 





IT 'S POLLY, DICK 'S GOT POLLY ! 



A RETURN 243 

have been frightened into good behavior for a 
week. I thought you were married to a woman 
fifty years old and fat as a toad." 

And then we fell on him, and thumped and 
pump-handled him, and patted Polly, who was 
as glad to get back as we were to see her; and 
then we dragged Dick in to supper and demanded 
explanations instantly on penalty of life and 
limb, and without benefit of clergy. 

And Dick told how he had seen Polly one day 
pass through a suburb of Boston, and had fol- 
lowed on foot and by car, and had finally located 
her and had bought her after considerable dick- 
ering, for he soon found out that her unpleasant 
habit of halter-pulling had^ cheapened her con- 
siderably in the estimation of her owner. As to 
the buggy and harness he said he had always 
wanted a new buggy and harness, and he thought 
I would not mind if he bought them. 

Mind! the young scamp, — if he had known 
how much I really would have been willing to give 
to get him out of the scrape I fancied he was in, 
he could have stocked up with an automobile. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

LOOKING BACKWARD 




]IX years have passed since I bought 
my farm, — years that have brought 
me hard work and but Httle more than 
a comfortable Hving in my profession. 
But the genuine pleasure I have experienced 
and the physical benefit I have derived from the 
cultivation of my tiny farm, have much more than 
repaid me for the many annoyances and losses 
in time and money my ill-directed but well- 
meant efforts have cost me. 

True, I have not arrived at that point where 
experienced farmers ask my advice in matters 
pertaining to the cultivation of the soil, the breed- 
ing of domestic animals, the relative advantage 
of top-dressing and sub-soiling, or other disputed 
questions in agricultural affairs. 

I have not even arrived at the distinguished 
honor of being a recognized contributor to an 
agricultural paper: my only contribution, which 
was written in a jocose spirit, was sent back with 
great promptness, with a note from the editor 
expressing an opinion decidedly adverse to the 



LOOKING BACKWARD 245 

admission of the article on the ground that " The 
flippant and puerile spirit pervading the whole 
article does not accord with the dignity of the 
paper or the importance of the subject." 

But I have afforded amusement for my neigh- 
bors, my friends and the public generally by the 
variety of my experiences, and — Well, a person 
who creates amusement for the public is not 
wholly useless in this world, and so I feel that I 
have done something for others. Besides, there 
are many persons who have actually added mate- 
rially to their income from my farming and gar- 
dening operations. 

I have bought cows and horses, hens and pigs, 
fertilizers and fruit trees, deodorizers and disin- 
fectants, cedar posts and wire-netting, patent 
feeders and patent foods, and have, for each and 
every horse, hen, pig, bag, barrel, and other 
article, paid somewhat over the market price. 

I have exchanged, dickered, traded, bartered, 
and trafficked in these same articles, and have, 
I believe, invariably been worsted in these en- 
counters; and so I feel that I have in a double 
measure been of benefit to my friends and ac- 
quaintances, by contributing liberally to the joy 
of the community and to its financial welfare. 

Now, what have I done for myself ? I have to 
a great extent lost my irritability. I have opened 
a large house to my friends and guests, have had 



246 FARMING IT 

my table furnished with my own vegetables, eggs, 
milk, cream, and butter, and adorned from spring 
to fall with my own flowers. 

I have brought my farm to a high state of fer- 
tility, hardened my hands, strengthened my mus- 
cles, cured my indigestion, and benefited every 
member of my family, and I have never neglected 
in any way the duties of my profession. 

It is a gray afternoon near the end of Novem- 
ber, and I am driving Polly hitched to a farm 
wagon. In the back of the wagon in a rack, 
straw- bedded, is a beautiful Jersey heifer. Be- 
hind, loping easily along, comes the little roan 
Indian pony, upon which, sitting easily on a 
cross saddle, is my once small daughter, now a 
girl of fourteen, riding with the ease and abandon 
of a cavalryman. 

The roads are hard and smooth, the going ex- 
cellent. Polly is ambitious and spins along at a 
spanking pace, but cannot shake off the smooth- 
gaited pony. A chill wind blows from the north, 
the dry rushes at the river's edge bend and rustle 
eerily, a little gray bird with jerking tail flies in 
and out of the dead bushes, while overhead a 
single crow, black against the gray sky, wings 
its way toward a growth of giant pines that 
shoulder to shoulder seem to defy the coming 
assaults of the storm king. 





RIDING WITH THE EASE AND ABANDON OF A CAVALRYMAN 



LOOKING BACKWARD 247 

As we pass the first bridge, down the steely 
course of the river comes a muffled figure, while 
the ring of the skates strikes sharply on the 
silent air. 

It is dusk as we whirl into the yard and pull our 
horses up, — dusk and chill with the cold breath 
of the dying year. Take our lantern and follow 
us as we unhitch Polly and lead her and the pony 
into the stable. As we enter, a pedigreed Jersey, 
from her warm and bedded stall, turns her head 
with its fringed ears and soft eyes, and lows com- 
fortably. We blanket our horses, bed them 
deeply, then climb to the loff, where we throw 
down English hay, raised on my farm. The 
heifer, unbound and dragged to a well-bedded 
pen, stares about her in surprise at her comfort- 
able quarters, then, pricking up her ears and 
elevating her tail, prances awkwardly. 

Our wagon is pulled into the carriage-house, 
the doors of the barn closed and locked, and we 
go next to the hen-coops. We carefully empty 
the water-cans, close the shutters to the windows, 
see that the ventilators are open and the fowls 
all at roost, and that none are sick, then pass on 
to another pen. In the little room at the entrance 
to the coop are many ribbons won at poultry 
shows, among them some blue ribbons. 

Then to the storehouse, where we see that the 
fastenings of the doors are firm. AYe cannot help 



248 FARMING IT 

flashing a lantern over the bins filled with apples, 
corn, cabbages, potatoes, turnips, and carrots, 
raised on our own place. 

As we come from the storehouse and fasten the 
door, night has fallen, the wind is moaning about 
the buildings, and a few flakes of snow, the ad- 
vance-guard of the storm, come sifting silently 
down. We extinguish our lantern, and faintly 
in the gathering darkness we can make out the 
dead corn-stalks standing like ghosts of departed 
summer, while through the black mass of the 
clustered pines the wind moans drearily. 

Without all is cold and dark and dreary. Within 
all is bright and warm and comfortable. Sum- 
mer is gone, but she will come again. Now for 
the winter and our fire and books. And locking 
arms with my daughter, I enter and shut out the 
gathering storm. 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 



THE CALICO CAT 

By CHARLES MINER THOMPSON 



" A farce tinged with demure seriousness. It is enough 
to tell the reader that he will chuckle over *The Calico 
Cat.'" — New York Tribune. 

*' There is a round of humorous episodes following one 
another in quick succession and making keen enjoy- 
ment for the reader." — Boston Journal. 

" A most vivacious tale. . . . The humor of the book 
is genuine and quite irresistible." — Boston Globe, 

"A highly amusing and ingenious tale. . . . The 
simple plot is ingenious and the village character 
types are varied and altogether amusing." — Chicago 
News, 



Humorously illustrated. i6mo, ;^i.25 



HOUGHTON f^^ BOSTON 

MIFFLIN /^\W AND 

COMPANY &^^ NEW YORK 



THE BREAKING IN OF A 
YACHTSMAN'S WIFE 



By MARY HEATON VORSE 



*' Clever ! Sparkling ! Full of quaint humor and crisp 
description ! Altogether a book which will not disap- 
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and an antidote to gloom." — N, V. Times. 

" Charming, with its salt, sea-slangy flavor, its double 
love thread, and its pleasant chapters dealing with 
Long Island Sound, the Mediterranean, Massachusetts 
Bay and Venetian lagoons. " — Chicago Record-Herald. 

Illustrated by Reginald Birch. i2mo, $1.50 



HOUGHTON /N^i BOSTON 

MIFFLIN /^fW ^^^ 

COMPANY ^^Ira NEW YORK 




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NOV ,o.. 



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